


Once Upon a Coffee Shop

by javajunkie



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/javajunkie/pseuds/javajunkie
Summary: Betty works at a coffee shop where Jughead is a regular customer.   Bughead AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Riverdale fanfiction, so please be kind! This starts out a bit Betty/Archie but will ultimately be Betty/Jughead. Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter One

Betty walked swiftly down the street, white Keds slapping anxiously against the pavement as she checked her watch. In front of her, an orange hand flashed with warning on the traffic light and Betty quickened her pace, hoping she wouldn’t end up a jaywalker halfway across the street. Her destination wasn’t too much farther, and she broke into a slight jog, silently cursing her morning lecture for running over the class time.   When she turned onto her street she slowed down before finally coming to a stop in front of the coffee shop. She took a calming breath before opening the door and walking in. The small bell on the top of the door clanged its announcement of her arrival. Behind the counter, a tall woman with dark skin watched her approach with minimal interest and said, “I actually thought you were going to be late for once.”

            Betty slipped behind the counter and grabbed her apron, fastening it around her waist. “I’m sorry, Bianca. My morning class ran late.”

            “Why are you apologizing? You’re on time.”

            “I don’t like cutting it this close,” Betty said, reaching up and smoothing her ponytail. “I like time to settle in. Prepare for my shift.”

            “You’re handing out coffee. What is there to prepare for?”

            Betty could hear her mother’s voice clear in her head with one of her favorite phrases.

_“Chance favors the prepared mind, Betty.”_

It typically accompanied some sort of admonishment and was followed by gut-churning guilt.   Betty chased away the negative memories with a quick tightening of her ponytail - the sharp pain at the base of her skull pulling her into the present – and set Bianca with a bright smile.

“I can cover registers now if you want to take your break,” she said.

Bianca raised one eyebrow and said, “You know all that smiling makes you look crazy, right?”

“What’s wrong with smiling?”

“You’ve been in New York for, what, two years now? You should know we don’t smile.”

            “I do know that,” Betty said. “But –“

            “The best way to get a smile is to share one?” Bianca finished drily. “I know. You’ve said it about a thousand times. If you die while working here, I’m getting that put on your tombstone.”

            Bianca skirted around the counter and headed out the front door. Before it closed, a lean male in black jeans and a ratty t-shirt walked through the doorway. Betty recognized him as one of their regulars. He came in at least a few times a week, always ordering a black coffee and sitting in a corner booth with his laptop. He stayed for hours but never asked for a refill. Betty enjoyed building a friendly rapport with the customers that she saw often, but he never responded to her attempts at conversation, typically responding with monosyllabic answers that effectively ended the exchange.

            “Hi there,” she said brightly, setting him with one of her smiles that apparently most of New York found off-putting. The look that he gave her implied that he, apparently, was no different.

            “Hi,” he said, voice flat. “I’ll have a –“

            “Large coffee,” she finished. “Black, right?”

            “Yeah, that’s right.”

            “You come here a lot,” she told him with a small grin, plugging his order into the cash register. “And always order the same thing. Large coffee. Black. You do know the first refill is free, right? Because I never see you get one.”

            “I know,” he said, voice wary. “I just figure that 16 ounces of that stuff is enough for my nervous system. There’s a fine line between productive wired and non-productive-wired.”

            “Fair point. Your order comes to 3.75.”

            “Oh, can you add a medium latte?”

            “I can absolutely do that,” she said, typing in the latte. The cash register flashed with the new total. “Do you have someone meeting you?”

            “Yeah, I do.”

            “That’s nice. I always –“

            “Here,” he said, handing her a ten. “You can keep the change.”

            He walked away before she could say anything else, his ten dollar bill clutched in her hand. She took a moment before putting the money in the register and moving down the counter to make the drinks. When she was finished she put them on a tray and walked out into the tables. She saw that a tall redhead settled on the other side of the regular’s booth. She could only see the back of his head, but when she got closer he turned to look at her and she felt her stomach drop. Her feet seemed to propel her toward their table of their own accord, and before she knew it she stood in front of them.

            “Hi,” she stammered, cheeks staining red.

            “Hi,” the redhead echoed, a ghost of a smile on his lips.  

            She knew logically that she was supposed to say something next, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember what normally came after such an exchange. He seemed similarly at a loss, his eyes roving over her face in a way that made her feel remarkably bare.

            The regular cleared his throat noisily and said, “Hi. Are those our drinks?”

            “Yes,” she blurted out.   Betty felt her cheeks go even more crimson. “Sorry. I have a black coffee for you.” She set it noisily in front of him and then turned to the redhead. “I’m guessing this latte is for you?”

            “Yes,” he said, taking the mug from her. His fingers brushed against hers and she tried not to externalize the thrill that ran through her. “I don’t have quite as refined coffee tastes as Jug, here.”

            “Jug?” she asked in confusion.

            “That’s me,” the regular said, holding up his hand in a manner that could only be described as unenthusiastic.

            “Your name is Jug?” she asked in disbelief, her raging hormones overriding her deeply ingrained politeness. She would have been mortified at her uncouth behavior if she wasn’t so completely distracted by his redheaded friend.

            “It’s actually Jughead,” he said. “And before you ask, yes, that is what my birth certificate reads. No, it’s not a family name.” He looked at his friend and asked, “That covers all the usual questions, right?”

            He laughed. “Yeah, I think you got them all.” He turned his attention back to Betty. “I’m Archie, by the way.”

            “Nice to meet you.”

            There was a stretch of silence and Archie said, “And your name is…”

            “I’m sorry,” she said automatically. “Betty. I’m Betty.”

            “You shouldn’t apologize,” Jughead said. “It’s completely natural to not give your name to strangers. It’s self-preservation at its most basic level. We could be murderers for all you know.”

            “We’re not,” Archie interjected. Jughead shrugged and took a large gulp of his coffee. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Betty.”

            “You too.”

            She slipped the tray under her arm and walked away before she said or did anything else embarrassing.

 

BBBBB

 

            “Is she here a lot?” Archie asked, watching Betty walk back to the counter. She hazarded once glance back at their table, but looked away quickly when he caught her gaze.

            “Yeah, I guess,” Jughead said with a shrug.   He didn’t like most people so he tended not to notice them. Betty was grouped together with the rest of the coffee shop people who didn’t register as much more than a nuisance to his afternoons of writing.

            “I should come here more often,” Archie said. “Do you think she liked me?”

            “She’s female,” Jughead drawled. “That pretty much makes it a guarantee that she liked you.”

            “Come on, Jug.”

            “What? Do you want a full breakdown of your five second interaction? She brought our drinks. You stammered hello at each other like you just came out of a coma. She made fun of my name, which, honestly, makes me respect her a little more. And then she went back behind the counter. Did I miss anything?”

            “You’re an asshole sometimes.”

            “I know,” Jughead returned easily.

            “Anyway, how’s your writing going?” Archie asked, wisely changing the subject.

            “Like pulling teeth,” Jughead said. “I was supposed to turn in this story a week ago. They’re going to kick me out of the program.”

            “They’re not going to kick you out. I’m sure you’re not the biggest slacker at NYU.   Maybe a close second, but definitely not number one.”

            “I can’t get my asshole professor’s voice out of my head.   I try to write and I just hear him going – you write empty characters. The guy hasn’t written anything in years. What does he know about characters?”

            “Didn’t he win a Pulitizer?”

            Jughead gave him a look and said, “You’re not helping.”

            “I’m just saying, he might know a thing or two about writing. Try to take his advice.”

            “I don’t know what it means to write empty characters. I write what I know. I write what I see. That’s not empty.”

            “Maybe it’s how you see people.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            Archie laughed, holding up his hands and said, “Hey, don’t get mad at me. But, you don’t really connect with people. Maybe that’s coming out in your writing.”

            “I connect with people,” Jughead said defensively.

            “Like who? And you can’t say me, my dad or your family.”

            Jughead couldn’t come up with a single name but he wasn’t about to admit that. Instead, he flipped open his laptop and said, “I’ll write him some characters. Some non-empty characters. Characters filled with whatever bullshit he wants.”

            Archie snorted. “Well, as long as you have the right attitude.”

           

BBBBB

 

            Betty walked into her apartment after work, looking forward to a night filled with Netflix and her couch. She heard her roommate, Veronica, rifling around in the bathroom and sing-songed, “Honey, I’m home.”

            Veronica walked out of the bathroom, decked out in a tight crimson dress and pearls. “Hey B. What do you think about this lip color? Too lady of the night?”

            “It looks really nice,” Betty told her. “What’s the occasion?”

            “Jeffrey’s taking me out for dinner,” she said, walking into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of wine.

            “I thought you were over Jeffrey.”

            “I am,” Veronica said, swirling her wine. “But I didn’t have plans for tonight.”

            Betty smirked. “Just be nice to him.”

            “I always am,” Veronica said with a wink. “Oh, your mother called. I told her that you were out.”

            “You didn’t tell her where I was, right?” Betty asked hesitantly.

            Veronica rolled her eyes. “No, Betty, I did not tell her your deep dark secret of having partial employment. Which, by the way, is the lamest secret ever.”

            “You now why I can’t tell her. This is me establishing my independence. If my parents know that I’m low on money they’ll just send me more, and I don’t want that. Money means control.  They spent eighteen years telling me what to do. I don’t want that here.”

            “We rebel from our parents in very different ways, Betty. Last time I was angry at my parents, I bought out the entire shoe department at Barney’s.”

            Betty grinned. “This is why we get along so well. Opposites attract.”

            “That must be it. Anyway, how was work today?”

            Betty thought about Archie and her smile widened. “It was really nice.”

            “Oh, I know that look. I _know_ that look! You saw something with a cute butt, didn’t you?”

            Betty laughed. “I only saw him from the waist up but I think there was serious potential.”

            “Betty! Dish!”

            “His name is Archie,” Betty said. “I don’t really now a lot about him. He met one of our regulars.”

            “Which one?” Veronica asked excitedly. Betty told her often about the regulars at the coffee shop and Veronica developed strong and largely unfounded opinions regarding each of them.   Betty hadn’t shared much about Jughead, though, predominately because there wasn’t much to tell. He kept to himself, which didn’t breed many interesting stories.

            “It’s the one who won’t really talk with me,” Betty said. “We actually had what may be construed as a conversation today. It was sort of nice.”

            “Okay, so this Archie guy, is he single?”

            “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly ask him if he was seeing someone in our two minute exchange.”

            “Betty, we talked about this,” Veronica sighed. “You always weave in the girlfriend question up front.”

            “Next time I meet an attractive man I promise to do just that,” she returned lightly. “But I don’t think he’s seeing anyone. He seemed…I don’t know…interested, maybe? Gosh. Is that too presumptuous?”

            “Have you looked in a mirror recently, Betty Cooper? Not even a little.” She took a sip of wine. “Okay, so this is good. He knows where you work and he has a friend there, so he has an excuse to show up. This is very good.”

            “It’s not anything,” Betty said timidly. “We only just met. It could be nothing.”

            “No. I have a feeling about this, Betty. And you know that my feelings are rarely wrong.”

            Betty smirked. “That’s because you have them with just about everyone.”

            Veronica grasped Betty’s hand tightly. “Today was a turning point in your life, Betty Cooper.   I can feel it. That man with the cute butt is something special.”

 

BBBBB

 

            Betty worked a morning shift the next day, and she busied herself with dishes to avoid the morning rush. Bianca manned the register, hating dirty dishes more than the demanding morning coffee people.

            “I’ll have a large black coffee,” a voice said behind Betty. She looked over her shoulder and saw Jughead standing at the register. He gave her a stiff sort of nod as he handed money to Bianca. Before she could do anything he walked away from the counter, replaced by a diminutive blonde whose order was as complicated as his was simple.

            Betty returned her attention to the dishes, working on a particularly sticky spot on a dish. The morning crowd slowly trickled out and Bianca leaned against the counter next to her.

            “So, those people who insist on soy milk, do you think they can actually taste the difference?”

            “I don’t know, maybe?”

            Bianca shook her head. “I can’t tell you how many times I almost put regular milk in, just to spite them.”

            Her eyes widened. “What if they’re lactose interolant?”

            “Um, excuse me?” a voice said, interrupting their conversation. Jughead stood in front of the counter with an empty coffee mug. He looked at Betty when he asked, “First refill is free, right?”

            She nodded. “Yes, it is.”

            “I’ll take a refill then.”

            She stepped forward and took the mug from him. “We’re brewing fresh coffee now. I’ll bring it over to you.”

            He nodded. “Okay.”

            The coffee took a few more minutes to brew and Betty hesitated before walking it over. She glanced over at the window filled with pastries and impulsively grabbed a banana nut muffin and put it on a plate. Holding the coffee in one hand and the plate with the muffin in her other, Betty walked over to Jughead. She put both on his table and sat down across from him.

            “I don’t remember ordering this,” Jughead said, pulling the plate toward him.

            “It’s an apology muffin.”

            He looked at her with bemusement. “Is it?”

            She nodded. “I’m sorry for reacting to your name the way that I did yesterday. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

            He shrugged.   “It’s a weird name. I get it.”

            “Still, I shouldn’t have reacted the way that I did.   So, I’m sorry.”

            He studied her face for a moment and then said, “You apologize a lot.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “You apologize a lot. I noticed it when we talked yesterday. And then right now. You say you’re sorry a lot.”

            “Oh. Well. I guess I do.”

            “Anyway, thanks for the muffin,” he said. “Unfortunately, though, I can’t eat it. I’m allergic to nuts.”

            “Oh no, I’m sorry!” she said, quickly pulling the muffin toward her as if the mere presence of it near him would make him break into hives. She realized what she said a moment too late and laughed as he said, “There you go again with apologizing.”

            “In this moment, I do feel it’s a bit warranted,” she said. “I did almost kill you with a muffin.”

            “Nah, just some mild throat swelling,” he said.

            “Well, can I get you anything else?” He gave her a look and she quickly said, “Not as an apology pastry. As a…Tuesday pastry.”

            “A Tuesday pastry?” he repeated, trying not to grin at the absolute ridiculousness that sprouted from her mouth. “Does everyone else in this fine establishment know about the Tuesday pastries?”

            “Fine, there’s no such thing as a Tuesday pastry.”

            He feigned disbelief and said, “Really?”

            “I still feel bad about yesterday and I smother feelings with food. So, there you go.”

            Jughead couldn’t fight the grin any longer and let it rest somewhat uncomfortably on his face as he told her, “Thank you for the offer but I am fine.” He gestured toward his computer and said, “I tend to type faster when my hands are not occupied.”

            “What are you working on, anyway?” she asked. “I don’t mean to pry, but you’re in here a couple times a week and you’re always typing away.”

            Jughead thought to himself how there hadn’t been that much typing as of late.

            “I’m a fiction writing major at NYU. I’m in a class where we write short stories each week. That’s what I do here. I like the constant stream of people. It’s enough white noise to write in without being distracted.”

            “I can’t write in silence either. My thoughts are too loud.”

            “I know exactly what you mean,” he said.

            “So, how is this week’s story going?” Betty asked.

            “It’s not. I’m still sitting on last week’s story. As embarrassing as it is to admit for a writer, I’m blocked.”

            “I hate that,” Betty breathed out. “You have so many ideas but none of them make sense on paper.   It’s the worst feeling.”

            “Yeah,” he echoed. “It is.”

            Betty stood up and said, “Well, I hope your writer’s block passes. I don’t usually do this, but if you want a _second_ first free refill, I’ll look the other way.”

            “I appreciate that, Betty.”

            She tapped her fingers on the table and said, “Happy writing, Jughead.”

            He watched her walk back over to the counter, stopping at a few tables along the way to pick up abandoned cups. After a few moments he looked back at the empty word document open on his computer. The cursor blinked mockingly.   Through the usual din of noise in the coffee shop, he heard her laugh. His fingers hovered over the keyboard and then he began to type.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your feedback! I'm so happy you enjoyed the first chapter!
> 
> I can't quite figure out how to work the formatting on this site - so, I apologize for the lack of indentations at points in this. I tried to tab in paragraphs, but it won't let me!

Chapter Two

Jughead wasn’t a people person. There was a very small pool of people who actually registered on his conscience, and outside of those six or seven people they were nothing more than warm bodies that took up space during his day. Some people would find this sad, but he liked it that way. It allowed him to go about his day without distraction. He was distracted now, and it was all Archie’s fault. If it hadn’t been for Archie, Betty would not have lingered at their table and learned his name. There would be no conversation. No apology muffin (he did eventually ask for a chocolate chip).

He craved those days - pre-Betty and his inability to _not_ track her movements around the coffee shop.   He did it without even trying. He looked up and there she was. At the sink. At the register. At his table sneaking him freshly baked cookies. He learned that Betty didn’t only smother uncomfortable feelings with food, it was a sort of currency for her.   She pulled conversation from him with a snickerdoodle cookie or chocolate croissant. He even let her look at one of his stories after a particularly good slice of apple pie. Jughead wasn’t the only one who couldn’t help but notice Betty. Archie joined him at the coffee shop with increasing frequency.

“I feel a bit used here,” he joked one afternoon. Archie, whose attention was fully on Betty at the register, looked at him and said, “What?”

“Oh, you remember I’m here? Thank you for that. I feel very seen right now.”

Archie snorted. “Are you feeling neglected, Jug?”

“I’m fine with you coming here under the guise of visiting your old friend, Jug, but you should at least attempt to maintain the ruse. Staring longingly at her does not achieve that end.”

“Has she mentioned me?” Archie asked excitedly.

“You’re an embarrassment to the entire male species right now.”

“You guys talk, right?”

Jughead shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And?”

“We talk about you,” Jughead deadpanned. “The entire time we talk about you and her unresolved feelings. I think we’re really making some progress.” Archie gave him a look and he said, “I’m sorry but we don’t talk about you.”

“Oh, she’s coming over here. Look cool.”

Jughead snorted. “Look cool? What does that even mean?”

“You know, like we weren’t just talking about her.”

“You’re cracked, man.”

Archie flashed a bright grin at Betty when she stopped at their table. “Hey there, Betty. Nice to see you.”

Betty mirrored his grin. “It’s nice to see you too, Archie. Hello Jughead.”

“Hello Betty. I have a question for you. Do we look cool right now?”

Beneath the table, Archie imparted a swift kick to Jughead’s shin that did not go unnoticed by the blonde standing beside the table. Betty stifled laughter and said, “I think you look very cool right now.”

“You hear that, Arch?” Jughead said, enjoying his friend’s squirming perhaps too much.

“Anyway, I just wanted to check in and make sure you guys didn’t need anything,” Betty said, her gaze lingering on Archie. She noticed a notebook next to his arm with what looked like sheet music stuffed in the lined pages. She smiled a bit and asked, “Archie, are you a musician?”

He followed her gaze and said, “Yeah. I play guitar. It’s actually what I’m going to school for. Music composition.”

“You write your own music?” she asked with surprise. “I’ve never met someone who wrote their own music.”

“He’s actually pretty good,” Jughead chimed in. “I’ve been hearing his stuff since we’ve been kids. I think he really hit his stride in the seventh grade. His girlfriend broke up with him before the winter dance and he wrote some _dark_ stuff.”

Betty laughed. “Heartbreak can really drive the creative process.”

Archie cleared his throat, looking either on the precipice of speaking or vomiting. “I’m actually performing some of my songs this Friday at O’Callaghan’s. If you were interested –“

“I’d love to go,” Betty said immediately.

“Really?” Archie said, voice colored with both relief and surprise.

Betty nodded. “I would.   What time is it?”

“9:00,” Archie said. “And if you can’t make it or something –“

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Archie.”

 

BBBBB

 

            After work and a long day of classes, Betty prepared herself for perhaps the most taxing part of the day: her weekly phone call with her mother. Alice Cooper promptly answered the phone after one ring. Her tone was warm, which used to lull Betty into a false sense of security, but after two years of barbed insults she knew better now.

            “Betty, dear, I saw those photographs you posted on Facebook of you and Veronica. You were at some restaurant?”

            “Yeah, it was a friend’s birthday.”

            “Veronica looked very beautiful,” Alice said. “Did she change her hair?”

            “I don’t think so.”

            “Well, it suits her very well.”

            It was not lost on Betty that apparently nothing in that photograph suited her well.

            “I’ll make sure to tell her.”

            “Please do.” There was a pause. “You looked a bit tired.”

            _There it is,_ Betty thought.

            “Are you eating dairy again?” Alice asked.   “You know what that does to you, Betty. It zaps your energy, not to mention it makes you bloat.”

            “I’m not eating dairy, Mom,” she said in a measured voice. “I have a lot going on at school and at – “ she stopped herself before she mentioned her side job.

            “And what?”

            “The paper,” she finished. “I’m taking on more responsibility.”

            “I’m happy to hear that,” Alice said. “After all, you did travel halfway across the country because of their journalism program.”

            _And conversations like this_ , Betty thought.

            “So, anyway, what else is new with you? Have you met anyone?”

            “Not yet,” she said, thinking of Archie. “I’m just so busy.”

            “Betty, sweetheart, this is the time to meet someone,” Alice said. “It’s much harder when you’re out of school. You’ll be working and hardly have time for anyone. You need to put yourself out there now.”

            “I do put myself out there,” Betty murmured, feeling the all too familiar sense of dread flood her stomach at her mother’s words.

            “Clearly not enough. You cannot sit in your apartment all day and expect to meet someone.”

            Betty felt a sharp retort on her tongue but drove it away with the stinging pain of her fingernails digging into her palms.

            “Talk to Veronica. She’s always been so outgoing. Maybe she can help you.”

            “I go out,” Betty said defensively. “In fact, I’m going to a music show this Friday.”

            “A music show? What type of music show?”

            “It’s, um, a singer-songwriter. I actually know him. I met him…at school. He’s really good, Mom.”

            “Don’t go fall for a musician now,” Alice said disapprovingly. Betty curled her palms tighter. “Why don’t you go study in the law school library like I recommended? Maybe you’ll meet a law student.”

            Her fingernails broke skin and she pulled her fingers back, allowing herself to become distracted by the way the blood bloomed from the small half moons.  

            “Betty, are you listening to me?”

            “Yes, Mom. I’m listening. I told you that I can’t study in the law school library. You need an ID.”

            “That’s so unnecessary. Libraries should be open to everyone.”

            The phone call went on much the same for the next ten minutes. Alice disapproving and Betty donning the persona of obedient daughter. When she hung up, Betty glanced down at her palms and ascertained the damage. Not too bad, she decided. It had been worse. She stood up from her bed and walked into her bathroom, turning on the faucet and putting her hands underneath the stream of water.

 

BBBBB

 

            “I am very excited to finally meet this Archie Andrews,” Veronica said, going through Betty’s closet as they got ready for the show. “And to judge the cute butt in person.”

            “He’s great,” Betty said. “You’re going to like him.”

            “And Jughead,” Veronica said. “You’ve been keeping a lot of men from me, B.”

            Betty laughed. “It’s not like that with Jughead. He’s just a friend. If he’s even that. It’s weird.”

            “How so?” Veronica asked, interest piqued.

            “He just doesn’t really like people. Archie told me how there is a small group of people he actually cares about. I’m not quite sure I made that cut.”

            “Interesting,” Veronica said. “Well, the mystery will be solved tonight. I’m a wonderful observer of the human condition.”

            Betty grinned. “Promise me that you will behave tonight.”

            “What does that mean?” Veronica tossed over her shoulder with mock outrage.

            “You know what that means. You have a habit of loudly announcing that I like people when we are around them. I’d like to avoid that tonight, please.”

            “Betty, you are so paranoid,” Veronica returned lightly. “You know that I would never embarrass you. I have your best interests in mind. Always.” She turned toward Betty, holding a dress in her hand. “Which is precisely why you need to change into this.”

            “That dress is way too much for tonight.”

            Veronica held a heavily beaded red dress that hit mid-thigh. It was undoubtedly a beautiful dress, but not appropriate for a night at a casual Irish pub.

            “This dress is never too much for anything. It’s that good.” She examined it further and mused, “I wonder who bought you this.”

            “It was you,” Betty deadpanned. “I won’t feel comfortable in it, V.”

            “This is your problem,” Veronica said. “You don’t harness your power as a gorgeous, smart and funny woman. That is the woman you need to be tonight when Archie sees you. Do you know how you can harness that power, B?”

            “Let me guess, with that dress?”

            “With this dress,” Veronica said emphatically. “This is your move tonight, Betty. Wear this dress and Archie will be begging you to marry him by the end of the night.”

            “What I’m taking from this conversation is that you don’t like my outfit,” Betty said slowly.

            “I don’t love it,” Veronica said plainly. “You look like you’re going to a bake sale. It’s the cardigan. Can we please retire the cardigans?”

            “I like my cardigans. They’re my signature look and you said yourself that a signature look is never out of style.”

            Veronica frowned. “I didn’t know when I said that you’d choose _cardigans_ as your signature look.”

            “I’m open to something different, just not that dress. I won’t be comfortable and you know how I get when I’m not comfortable.”

            “I do,” Veronica sighed. “Alright, back to the drawing board.”

            Twenty minutes later Betty was in a pink dress without a cardigan. Veronica, while not wholly satisfied, was content with the final product. The girls grabbed their purses and headed out.

 

BBBBB

 

            Jughead wasn’t much of a fan of bars but he didn’t mind O’Callaghans. It was a mostly older crowd, although there was a smattering of younger women likely due to Archie’s show. His friend found himself quite popular with the female demographic in the music composition program at NYU. He thought to himself that these poor women didn’t know that they were all lost causes. Archie was totally and completed besotted by one Betty Cooper. He seemed more nervous about seeing her than his actual set.

            Jughead sat at one of the reserved tables, idly drinking his beer as he waited for the set to start. He glanced to the side and his beer was all but forgotten when he saw Betty and a friend walk in. She was wearing a pink dress that seemed much too proper for the setting, but fit her personality perfectly. Her normal ponytail was replaced with soft waves. Jughead always knew that Betty was beautiful. It was an objective fact, but tonight it was somehow different. It wasn’t just an observation, it was something he felt all the way to his core. She grinned when she caught sight of him, offering him a tiny wave. The small brunette next to her openly appraised him with calculating eyes.

            “This should be fun,” he murmured, finishing off his beer.

            “Hi Jughead,” Betty said. “This is my roommate Veronica. Veronica, this is Jughead.”

            “It’s very nice to meet you,” Veronica said, claws retracted for now. “I’ve heard so much about you and Archie.”

            “Oh really?”

            “I was especially excited to learn more about you,” Veronica said, drawing a look from Betty.   “I’ve heard about all the regulars at the coffee shop. Your story has really developed over the last month.”

            “You’ve heard of all the regulars, huh?” he said. He liked the idea of Betty getting home at the end of the day and filling Veronica in on the regular happenings. It seemed comfortingly quaint.

            “It’s basically my own personal soap opera,” Veronica said. “Like, Betty told me about a couple that always came in together. Then he started coming in by himself and each day moved one table closer to this other girl. Not his girlfriend. Well, the actual girlfriend must have found out and she – “ Veronica looked over at Betty, “ – she flipped a coffee on him, right?”

            “An extra hot chai latte,” Betty said. “I think it did some damage.”

            “Anyway, a few days later, he shows up again with that other girl. Apparently they’re still together, right Betty?”

            “Three weeks and going strong at the table next to the fireplace,” Betty said.

            “Hold on, the table by the fireplace?” Jughead said, a vague memory coming to mind. “I think I remember them.”

            “I love the regulars,” Veronica sighed. She turned her attention to his empty beer glass and said, “So, you’re twenty one?”

            Jughead nodded. “Yeah, just last week.”

            “I missed your birthday?” Betty said.

            “I’m not a big fan of them,” he told her. “What’s so special about getting a year older? Everyone does it.”

            “Unless you’re dead,” Veronica piped in. “Think you could get B and I something? We’re only a few months off so it’s practically legal.”

            “Practically, huh?” Jughead asked with an arched eyebrow.

            “You don’t have to get us anything,” Betty said immediately, shooting Veronica a look. “We’ll just have sodas or something.”

            Jughead shrugged and said, “I can get you guys beer. I don’t care. I need to get myself another anyway.”

            “We’re not exactly beer drinkers,” Veronica said. “I’ll take a martini. Gin, obviously. Betty, what about you?”

            “I’ll stick with soda,” Betty said, wanting to have every bit of her wits for when she saw Archie later that evening.

            “Oh Betty,” Veronica sing-songed, pulling money out of her purse and handing it to Jughead. “I’m really disappointed that our living together hasn’t corrupted you more.”

            Betty smiled a bit and told Jughead, “I’ll come with you.”

            He nodded. “Okay.”

            They made their way through the growing crowd, Betty oblivious to the appreciative looks cast her way by various patrons. Jughead noticed and thought to himself that it was somewhat of a blessing for him to be gifted with unassuming looks. He didn’t enjoy attention on a good day, and Betty seemed to get it all the time. They finally reached the bar and Jughead told her, “You know I can get you something other than a soda.”

            She smiled sweetly and said, “I appreciate that, Jughead, but I’m really okay with only a soda. Besides, Veronica will almost certainly find some poor man here to buy her drinks for the rest of the night and someone needs to get her home.”

            “You two are very different,” he noted.

            “We are,” she agreed. “When we were first assigned as roommates I was terrified of her. She seemed so worldly and all knowing. But, we ended up becoming very close very quickly. What about you and Archie? You two seem pretty different, too.”

            “We grew up together,” he said by way of explanation.

She nodded, face open and earnest. He considered telling her about his whole fucked up childhood. His father drifting in and out of jail. His mother taking on parental duties with the same flippant attitude as she did her diets. Archie was the only constant family he’d known back then. He remembered lively dinners at Archie’s house, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews piling his plate with food and making him feel, for the first time, like he actually belonged somewhere. He could just imagine Betty’s response, the pity that would certainly fill her wide blue eyes.

            The bartender approached and the moment thankfully passed. Jughead ordered their drinks and the pair fell into a somewhat uncomfortable silence.   Betty rested her palms on the bar, but pulled back when she felt moisture spread on her skin. Jughead watched and laughed lightly as he said, “Yeah, it’s generally wise to avoid touching most areas of the bar.”

            He reached forward and plucked a napkin from a pile set a few inches from his hand. She took it gratefully and wiped at her palms. He noticed that she kept them facing down, but for a moment her right palm drifted open and he saw the dusting of tiny scars spread on the palm, one particular set pinker than the others. She caught his gaze and quickly closed her palm. The bartender returned with their drinks and Betty grabbed her soda and Veronica’s martini, tossing a haphazard thank you to him as she hurried back to her friend.

 

BBBBB

 

            All week Betty had been looking forward to watching Archie perform. She dreamed up the scene countless times at night when she tried to fall asleep. He’d be perfect – it was the only way Betty ever imagined him performing – and she’d watch from the crowd, marveling in his talent. The set list would slow down with a love song, and his eyes would find hers in the crowd, the romantic lyrics feeling as if they were sung directly to her. Reality was not too far from her dream. Archie was immensely talented and he did sing a surprising number of love songs, timid eyes meeting hers as he crooned. But she didn’t hold his gaze. She couldn’t focus, mind drifting back to the bar, Jughead and her open palm.

            Halfway through the set, she excused herself to use the bathroom. She felt two gazes on her back as she weaved through the crowd and disappeared into the bathroom. A group of girls gathered at the mirror, the topic of conversation Archie. Betty slipped into the bathroom stall and leaned against the closed door, flipping her palms up under the harsh fluorescent lights. Shame cut through her, leaving wounds deeper than those in her skin. Her dinner sat heavily in her stomach and she gazed almost longingly at the toilet. She hadn’t done it in years.

            Applause erupted outside of the bathroom, pulling Betty from the downward spiral of her thoughts.   She took a deep breath and tucked her hair behind her ears. Everything was going to be fine. Jughead wouldn’t say anything. He didn’t get himself mixed up in other people’s problems. Besides, she didn’t have a problem. Not anymore. She went to the therapists. She took the medication. Her palms were just a way of coping, and it wasn’t nearly as bad as it used to be.  

            Betty walked out of the bathroom and almost knocked into Jughead. She stumbled backwards in surprise and stammered, “Jughead, what are you doing over here?”

            “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

            “I’m fine,” she said, bright and dazzling smile in place. She could hear her mother’s voice faintly.

            _A smile hides a multitude of sins._

“Betty,” he said in a low voice. “I saw your palm.”

            Her smile faltered, but she quickly corrected it, increasing the wattage until her cheeks ached. She was good at this part. Hiding.

            “I appreciate your concern, Jughead, but I’m really fine. What you saw - I had some issues before.   That’s what those are from. But I’m fine now.”

            “Some of them were fresh, Betty.”

            The smile dropped from her face. “Again, Jughead, I appreciate the concern but this is really none of your business.”

            “Betty-“

            “We should get back out there,” she said, brushing past him and rejoining the crowd. Her nerves were pulled tightly, making her shoulders tense and palms curl. She expected Jughead to keep his distance, but instead he sat down right next to her. She tried to ignore him and focus on Archie, but she found it increasingly difficult. She glanced at Veronica, who was completely entranced by the performance, and leaned into Jughead to quietly say, “Please don’t tell her.”

            Jughead looked over at her in surprise. “I wasn’t going to.”

            “Oh,” she breathed out. “I just thought –“

            “I don’t get mixed up in other people’s shit. And besides, you’re right, it’s none of my business. But if you two are as close as you say you are, you should talk about it with her. Talk about it with someone.”

            Betty nodded.

 

BBBBB

 

            “I have my verdict,” Veronica announced, following Betty into their apartment after the show. “Archie does, in fact, have a cute butt. And he is totally and completely in love with you. I swear some of those songs were actually written about you.”

            Betty grinned. “He was pretty great.”

            “And Jughead,” Veronica began. “Jughead surprised me.”

            Betty glanced over at her and carefully asked, “How so?”

            “He was much more brooding than you described. Funny too, though. It’s a weird mix. Anyway, I liked him. I liked them both. We should add them to our friend rotation.”

            Betty nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

            She thought about what Jughead told her earlier about talking to someone, and watched Veronica clumsily step out of her heels. Veronica rubbed her heel, wincing as she groaned, “Why do I wear these torture devices again?”

            “Because you like being a head above the general female population.”

            Veronica tilted her head to the side with a chesire grin. “You’re right. I do. But no heels tomorrow. I think my feet are about two inches away from mutiny.”

            “Hey, V?”

            “Yeah?” Veronica said lazily, running her fingers through her hair.

            Betty curled her fingers into her palms, running the tips of her fingers against the familiar raised edges. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

            “Of course. That’s what friends are for.” She placed a quick kiss on Betty’s cheek. “Good night, B.”

            “Night, Veronica.”

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback! I hope you enjoy this chapter - a lot happens!
> 
> Once again - I cannot figure out formatting on this one. Can anyone tell me how I can have my paragraphs indent at the start like they are supposed to??

 

Chapter Three

"Okay, we have a lemon poppyseed muffin, chocolate chip scone or pumpkin bread left over," Betty said, sidling up to Jughead's table. It was the end of the night and he was the only person left in the coffee shop. Usually she brought the leftover baked goods out to the homeless people who took up residence around the shop, but she figured she'd give Jughead first dibs tonight.

"Tough decision. I actually like all of those."

"You live a very difficult life," Betty teased. "We have a bit of coffee left over, too. Do you want another refill?"

Jughead shook his head. "No, I'm good. If I have more I'll never fall asleep and get my usual four hours."

"Of sleep?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yeah." He saw the incredulous look on her face and explained with a shrug, "I think years of staying up late gaming conditioned me to operate on base minimum sleep. How much do you sleep?"

"Eight hours. I can't imagine having four extra hours like you do." Her eyes lit up at the possibilities of all that additional time.

"Don't get any ideas now, Betty," he warned lightly. "It takes many years of careful practice to reach my level. If a neophyte like you tries it, well, it's not pretty."

"Don't worry, I like my robust sleep schedule," she assured him. "So, did you make a decision yet?"

"Yes," he said decisively, scooting out of the booth. "I'll go with the lemon poppyseed muffin. I have to run to the bathroom, but I'll grab it when I get back."

She nodded, picking up his empty coffee mug. "Okay."

Betty brought his mug to the sink and turned on the faucet. She heard someone behind her and turned around. A tall male stood in front of the counter, and she said, "Hi, sorry, we're actually closing. I…" she trailed off when she noticed that one hand was in the bulging pocket of his jacket, the other trembling at his side. He looked nervous and pale.

She knew what was coming and made a futile attempt to remember if she received any sort of training for this. A robbery. Certainly this was covered at some point in her training. It seemed like the sort of thing for which she received some guidance. She wasn't getting held up every day, after all. She remembered the steps to making a caramel machiatto. The location of the bathroom cleaner. But she couldn't remember anything about what to do when a patron very likely had a gun in his pocket.

"I-I can make you something," she stammered, trying out the possibility that some good old fashioned caffeine could change his mind without any real hope that it would work. "I know I said we were closing, but –"

She exhaled sharply when he pulled the gun from his pocket. It was a small handgun, but its size did little to quell Betty's nerves. She swallowed hard, eyes sliding over to where Jughead disappeared seconds earlier. The robber's hand seemed to steady at the power derived from pointing a loaded gun at another human being. She could see it corrupt him, tight jaw loosening as he stepped forward and said, "Give me all the money in that register."

Logically, Betty knew that when a man with a weapon demanded something it was prudent to follow his instruction. You don't defy someone with a loaded gun, particularly when that gun is pointed directly at you. Betty knew all of this, but her limbs didn't care. She was frozen in place, unable to even move her hand to the register. The robber noticed her hesitance and said, "What's wrong with you?"

 _I really don't know_ , she thought. Most people when faced with the very real possibility of being shot would hurry on up and do whatever it took to make that not happen. Instead, she was frozen in terror, like that time her mother came home early from a work conference and found her with piles of her expensive Chanel make-up on her seven-year-old face. She remembered hearing her mother's footsteps and staring in horror at her reflection in the mirror. She could have easily run into the bathroom or her bedroom. Instead, she stayed rooted in front of the vanity. Her mother scrubbed her face so harshly afterwards that her skin stayed pink for hours.

"Are you deaf or something?"

Tears flood her eyes, but still she couldn't move. The robber's jaw ticked and he leaned forward and pressed the cool metal of the gun's mouth against her forehead. "The money. Now."

* * *

Jughead walked out of the bathroom, poised to tell Betty that he changed his mind about the muffin – that pumpkin bread sounded too good to pass up – when he found Betty cowering behind the cash register with a gun pressed against her forehead. His immediate instinct was to charge forward, but he didn't want to escalate matters or scare the guy into twitching his trigger finger. He shuddered at what would happen afterwards if the latter happened. Jughead slunk back, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. Announcing himself could make matters worse. As a general matter, Jughead thought that men with guns should not be startled. Particularly when the gun was pressed against another person's forehead. He couldn't call anyone, his phone lying uselessly out on his table. Could he make it there without the guy seeing him? He looked at Betty and their eyes met. She didn't move an inch, but the terrified look in her eyes made him move forward clumsily, knocking into a chair.

The robber turned toward him in a panic, gun now pointed squarely on him. Despite being in probable mortal danger, Jughead actually felt relieved. Behind the counter Betty screamed, "No!" and suddenly jumped into action, releasing the drawer from the register and pulling out fistfuls of money. The robber's attention turned back to her and he pulled a bag out of his pocket and shoved it at Betty.

"Put the money in there," he told her. He looked back at Jughead, gun still pointed clearly at him, and said, "Don't try anything stupid."

"I don't want any trouble," he said, holding his hands up. "Just take your money and leave. No one needs to get hurt here."

"Here, this is all of it," Betty said, holding the bag toward him. "It's all in there."

The robber snatched the bag and his gaze stopped on the gold chain around Betty's neck. He levied the gun on her again and demanded, "Give me your necklace."

Betty's hand flew to her neck. "My necklace?"

"Give it to me, bitch," the robber snapped.

Betty's hand closed tighter around her neck and she murmured, "No."

"What?"

"Betty, give him the necklace," Jughead said, feeling increasingly panicked with the more time the robber had the gun pointed at her. "Just give it to him."

"No," she said, her voice stronger. "You can't have this. I won't let you."

The robber seemed to consider this for a moment and then reached forward and shoved her hand away. He took a hold of the chain and tugged at it brutally, Betty crying out as the chain snapped. Jughead rushed toward the counter, the robber barreling past him and out the door. He considered going after him – a relatively stupid consideration with a gun in the equation – but then he saw Betty sink down to the ground. He hurried around the counter and crouched down in front of her. Betty's hands clutched her neck.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

She didn't respond, sobs obscuring any sort of sentence that she tried to string together. Jughead thought she might have been hurt, and hurriedly removed her hands from her neck as he said, "Let me see."

There was a shallow cut on the side of her neck from where the chain sliced against her skin. He let out a shaky breath. "It doesn't look that bad. We probably should clean it, though. Do you guys have a First Aid kit?"

"My necklace," she sobbed softly. "He took it. He took my necklace."

"It's only a necklace," he said. "You can get another one."

"No, it's not," she returned heatedly, wiping at her nose. "You don't understand. It was more than a necklace. It…" she trailed off before she revealed more than she wanted.

"It was what?" he asked.

Her hands curled tightly on her lap and Jughead took a hold of them, gently pulling them flat against his palm. "Betty, talk to me."

Her face crumpled, and she turned her head away from him. She pulled her hands from his grasp, but laid them flat against her lap. "I don't like to talk about it."

"Yeah, I can tell. But, you almost just got yourself killed over a necklace."

"It's in the past," she said defiantly. "It's – it's over. That's what the necklace represented. I beat it."

Jughead nodded slowly. "Okay."

Betty took a deep breath. She didn't want to tell him, but part of her felt like she needed to. He saw her palms. He already knew more than most people.

"Look, I won't judge you," Jughead said, filling the silence. "Whatever it is, I promise I won't."

"I know," she said softly.

Neither said anything for a long stretch.

"It started when I was about fourteen," she began, her breathing shallow. "In the beginning, I only did it if I ate something that I thought was bad. Pizza. Cookies. That sort of thing. I actually thought I was being smart. My mom always told me not to eat that sort of stuff, so eating it and then bringing it back up felt like I was getting away with something. It was exciting." Betty was ashamed to feel a slight thrill run through her at the memory. "Anyway, it obviously got worse. I started doing it after every meal. I was hospitalized a few times for dehydration, but I just told my parents that it was from not drinking enough water at my cheerleading practices. My sister knew, though. Polly. She caught me a few times but I made her promise not to tell anyone. My parents finally found out when I passed out in the shower. I was something like ninety pounds then."

"Shit, Betty," Jughead breathed out, trying to imagine how her parents hadn't noticed that their daughter was practically starving to death.

"Polly convinced me to go into a rehabilitation program," Betty continued. "My parents were against it. They thought it was something I should have been able to fix myself, but I couldn't."

"Of course you couldn't," Jughead said, a bit outraged that anyone would expect that she could. "It's a disease."

Betty smiled sadly. "Yeah, it is. Anyway, I went to the program. It was complete hell for the first few weeks and then it wasn't. I was there for six months total. At the end of it, Polly bought me that necklace."

"I'm so sorry," Jughead said, wishing he ran after the guy. "I didn't know it meant so much to you."

"It's fine," Betty said, pulling her knees into her chest. "Like you said, it's only a necklace."

"I was wrong," Jughead said. "I get having an item mean something to you." He tugged his grey beanie off his head. "Do you see this?"

She nodded. "Yeah. You know, I was starting to think it's the only one you own."

Jughead snorted. "It's not, but it's the only one I wear. My dad…" he stopped for a moment, wondering if he wanted to go where the conversation was heading, "…he's been in jail for about ten years now. He was never exactly what I'd call a good father. I think he tried in his own way, but we were never enough for him – my sister and me. I guess fatherhood wasn't nearly as thrilling as robbing the bank one town over."

"Jughead, I'm so sorry," Betty said, lying her hand on his arm.

"He got me this hat the Christmas before he got locked up," Jughead said, passing the hat casually between his two hands. "Thankfully I've always had a pretty big head."

Betty laughed next to him, and Jughead thought to himself that it might have been his proudest moment all evening.

"What that very long and depressing story was supposed to demonstrate is that I understand something having a larger meaning than what is readily apparent. I'm really sorry about your necklace, Betty."

"Thank you."

"We should call the police," Jughead said after a moment.

"Yeah, we should. Do I call my boss? I don't really know what I'm supposed to do in this situation."

"I would," Jughead said. He stood up and offered her his hand. "Let's call and then find you that First Aid kit."

* * *

Some antiseptic, one Bandaid and two statements to the police later, Betty was finally closing up the coffee shop for the night. She told Jughead that he could go home, but he insisted on helping. When they were finished she looked over at him and said, "Since you're here anyway, would you mind walking me to the subway?"

"Yeah, sure. I take it home, anyway."

"Thanks."

They didn't talk much on the walk to the subway, Betty constantly feeling like there was someone or something lurking around a corner. It helped to have Jughead with her, though. He made odd comments about people they walked by and when they got on the subway he purposely gave her the window seat and took the one next to her. She knew it was horribly anti-feminisit, but she liked having him there. It was comforting to know what whatever came after her now would have to go through him first.

"I love the subway," he said off-handedly, leaning forward and bracing his arms on the empty seat in front of him.

"You do?" Betty asked.

"When I was little I used to spend hours on it. Just circling the city."

"I didn't know you grew up here," Betty said.

"Born and raised," Jughead returned.

"Wasn't it boring just being on a train car for hours?" Betty asked.

"It was better than being home," Jughead said. He picked a piece of lint off the elbow of his sweatshirt. "As you may have already guessed, I didn't exactly have a Norman Rockwell childhood."

Betty thought of her own cookie cutter childhood and said, "It's not all it's cracked up to be."

"So, what's your stop again?"

"Bauer Street," Betty said. "Just one more stop. I'm not making you miss yours, am I?"

They passed his stop a good ten minutes ago, but he shook his head and said, "Nope. Are you sure you're okay getting to your apartment?"

Betty nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I just…I felt like he was still by the coffee shop. Like he was lurking in the shadows or something." Her cheeks flushed. "It's stupid, I know."

"It's not stupid," he said. "You went through something traumatic tonight, Betty. You can't expect it to just not affect you."

"He had the gun pointed at you, too," Betty reminded him. It seemed like he was unaffected by the whole event, and she felt embarrassed for feeling so jumpy.

Jughead shrugged in response. To be honest, he'd been more scared when the gun was pointed at her. "Anyway, this is me offering to walk you to your apartment."

Betty laid her hand on his arm. "That's very sweet of you, but I'll be okay."

One stop later the subway was pulling into her station. Betty tapped Jughead's arm and he stood to let her pass. She looked up at him and hesitated for a moment before stepping forward and pulling him into a light embrace.

"Thank you for earlier," she murmured against his neck.

His body was stiff against hers, and he stammered, "For what? I didn't do anything."

She pulled away from him and smiled softly. "Yeah, you did." The subway came to a stop. "Good night, Jug."

"Night, Betty."

Jughead tried not to watch her make her way down the platform, but he did, anyway. It was stupid. Falling for a girl so entirely wrong for him. He was usually immune to the charms of people like Betty Cooper, but somehow she wormed her way under his skin. He couldn't even blame her. He knew that she was oblivious to the effect that she had on him, on men in general. That made it even worse.

"Good going, Jug," he murmured.

* * *

Veronica reacted much like Betty expected when she told her about what happened at the coffee shop. She immediately pulled her into a tight hug and then pulled back quickly and said, "That didn't hurt, right?"

"Did your hug hurt the scratch on my neck?" Betty asked slowly. "No, it didn't."

"I can't even imagine how scared you must have been," Veronica said, pulling Betty over to the couch. "He really put the gun to your forehead?"

Betty nodded. "It was pretty terrifying. But at least Jughead was there. I don't know what I would have done if I was by myself."

"Yeah, that was definitely lucky," Veronica said. "You said that he walked you to the subway too, right? Stand-up guy, that Jughead Jones. I have to admit, I wouldn't have guessed it."

Betty felt somewhat uncomfortable at Veronica's overture and said, "It wasn't a big deal. We take the same line and my stop was on the way to his."

Veronica looked at her strangely. "It is?"

"Yeah. I can't remember what stop he said – I actually don't think he did – but he said it's past ours or something." Betty stood up and said, "I'm going to make some tea. Do you want any?"

"Yeah, sure," Veronica said distractedly. She specifically remembered having a conversation at Archie's show with Jughead where he said he lived off the Bleeker stop, which was halfway between their stop and the coffee shop. Veronica catalogued the information for later examination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback makes me write even quicker! So, review away!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the close of the long weekend, this is likely the end of daily updates. I will be continuing, though! This chapter is a bit of a transition one but I think it's my favorite one so far. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter Four

Betty always loved spring. It felt like the entire city changed.   Buds sprouted on the trees. Birds suddenly returned from their migration to warmer climates, waking her gently with their sweet chirps. People even seemed nicer, although Veronica repeatedly told her that was a New York impossibility.

            “Nice isn’t in our blood, Betty.”

            Feeling lighter with the rising temperatures and longer days, Betty found everything easier to handle. Her stress at school. The phone calls with her mother. She started rubbing shea butter on her palms at night, the half crescent moons fading into her skin. Her relationship with Archie was advancing, too. He started coming to the coffee shop without Jughead, keeping her company during the slow times and annoying Bianca with his unrelenting pep.

            “Where do people like you come from?” Bianca had asked one day, disdain evident in her voice.

            “I’m actually from here,” Archie said.

            “I’m embarrassed _for_ you.”

            The first week of April, Archie had his second show. It was at another smaller bar buried on the far end of the West Village.

            “For the price of this Uber ride, that boy better ask you out tonight,” Veronica said, using the camera on her phone to check her lipstick.

            “Tonight’s not about that,” Betty returned. “It’s about his music. He had me listen to some of his new songs earlier this week. They’re really good.”

            “Is there any universe where you wouldn’t think that?” Veronica asked with a knowing grin, slipping her phone back into her purse.

            “Probably not,” Betty admitted with a laugh. “Gosh, I’m nervous to see him. Is that ridiculous?”

            Veronica patted Betty’s hand indulgently and told her, “No, you have a crush. Nerves are appropriate and expected.”

            “I feel like he might ask me out soon. Not tonight. But soon.”

            “It’s about time. He’s only been stalking you at work for, what, three weeks now? Do you think any of his new songs are about you? That’s always been something on my bucket list. Have a cute musician write a song about me.”

            “I don’t think so, that would be crazy. We barely know each other.”

            “Yeah, well, that guy who wrote _Hey There, Delilah_ barely knew her and she ended up on the Billboard Top 40.” The car pulled to a stop in front of the bar and Veronica sighed, “Finally.”

            Betty thanked their driver as she slipped out of the car behind Veronica. There was already a line formed outside the bar, but Veronica spotted Jughead up front and strode up to him, ignoring the angry looks cast at her. The group of girls behind Jughead voiced their disgruntlement and Veronica snapped, “Have you actually ever met the guy singing tonight? No? That’s what I thought.”

            “You know, Veronica, I’d like to not get drinks spilled on me tonight,” Jughead said.

            Veronica tugged at the string on Jughead’s sweatshirt and returned, “Maybe that would actually make you wash this thing.”

            “Did you have to bring her?” Jughead asked Veronica glibly.

            “Play nice guys,” Betty said with a slight grin.

            The line moved forward and they walked into the bar, weaving through the crowd to make their way toward the bar. Betty tripped over a wadded napkin on the ground and Jughead grabbed her arm to steady her, his other hand going instinctively to the curve of her waist. She straightened up and he quickly released her arm and returned his hands to his sides, murmuring, “Sorry, I –“

            “No, it’s okay,” Betty said, a flush spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. “Thank you.”

            “Yeah. No problem.”

            Veronica watched the exchange with piqued interest. Maybe Archie wasn’t the only man in Betty’s life, after all. As if on cue, the redheaded Adonis appeared and any tension between Betty and Jughead dissipated with his arrival.

            “I saw you guys come in and wanted to say a quick hi before my set,” Archie said, gaze lingering on Betty. “I’m glad you guys didn’t have trouble getting in. Apparently the line is sort of crazy out there. Can you believe it?”

            “Your music is wonderful, Archie,” Betty said with a sweet grin. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the line was around the block.”

            Veronica smirked at her roommate’s exaggeration and said, “B and I were running a bit late, but luckily Jughead had a fantastic spot in line.”

            “Yes, I did,” Jughead agreed, giving Veronica a pointed look.

           “I have to admit, the crowd’s making me a little nervous,” Archie said, his voice tight. “If I bomb tonight there will be a lot of witnesses.”

            “Think of it as character building,” Jughead offered.

            “You will not bomb tonight,” Betty told him, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Just go up there and think about all the people out here who care about you and are supporting you.”

            Jughead cleared his throat noisily and said, “I’m going to get started at the bar. Archie, don’t freak yourself out.”

            He gave Archie’s back a friendly clap as he passed him and made his way to the bar. Archie laughed a bit and said, “Anyway, I should get back up there.”

            Betty nodded enthusiastically. “Good luck up there.”

            Veronica watched Archie walk back towards the stage and she told Betty, “Why don’t you go help Jughead with the drinks. Get me a martini?”

            “Yeah, sure. You’ll grab the table?”

            “Yes, absolutely,” Veronica said.

            Betty hurried over to join Jughead and Veronica looked around her to see who would work for the plan quickly forming in her mind. She spotted a girl who looked like she was waiting for a friend and Veronica walked over and asked, “Can I buy you a drink?”

 

* * *

 

            “Let me guess, she wants a gin martini?” Jughead asked Betty when she joined him. Betty nodded with a grin and he said, “Do you think she’d actually notice if it was vodka and not gin?”

            “It’s Veronica,” she said by way of answer.

            “They’re both tasteless alcohols.”

            “Again, it’s Veronica.”

            Jughead laughed. “Fair point. Soda for you again?”

            “Yes,” Betty said, narrowing her eyes playfully at his tone of voice. “But I’ll do a Coke tonight.”

            “Betty Cooper, drinking caffeine after nine o’clock. You’re such a rebel.”

            “All of our time together must have rubbed off on me,” she teased, knocking her elbow against his.

            A girl wedged herself next to Jughead, craning her neck to find the bartender and then casting an appreciative glance at Jughead. She angled her body toward him and said, “Hey.”

            Jughead looked over at her in surprise and said, “Hi.”

            Figuring it was just someone bumping into him at the bar, Jughead turned his attention back to Betty, but the girl leaned toward him and asked, “Are you here for the show?”

            “Yeah, it’s actually my friend who’s playing, “ he said. He gestured toward Betty and added, “Our friend, actually.”

            “I’m talking to a friend of the band, it must be my lucky day,” she said, voice lilting. “I’m Kendall.”

            “Jughead.”

            She nodded appreciatively and said, “Cool name.”

            Betty waited for the girl to ask for her name, and when she didn’t pointedly said, “I’m Betty.”

            The girl smiled tightly. “Nice to meet you. Anyway, where are you from?”

            The question was clearly directed toward Jughead only, and Betty bristled next to him.

            “I’m from here, actually,” Jughead said.

            “The West Village? You don’t seem the type.”

            Jughead laughed. “No, not the West Village. But, New York. Brooklyn to be exact.”

            “I love Brooklyn,” the girl said. “It has such a cool feel to it. There’s a bookstore down there…I’m trying to think of the name…”

            “Greenlight Bookstore?” Jughead offered.

            “Yes!” she said, eyes bright. “It’s so good, right?”

            Jughead nodded and said, “Yeah, it’s pretty great.”

            Betty watched the exchange with a feeling she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Jughead was somewhat animated, which he rarely was with strangers. It took her months to get a full sentence out of him. The bartender stopped in front of them, and Betty was more than happy to interrupt their little conversation.

            “Hey Jug,” she said tapping his bicep. He looked over at her and she tilted her head toward the bartender.

            “What do you want?” the bartender asked.

            “Oh, um, a Greenline, gin martini and Coke.”

            The bartender looked at the girl and she said, “I’ll take a Greenline, too.”

            Betty half expected Jughead to put the girl’s beer on his tab, and was secretly delighted when he didn’t. The bartender’s arrival seemed to have broken the moment between them, but Betty could see Jughead sneaking looks at her. She was relieved when the drinks came and it was time to leave the bar.

            “Anyway, nice to meet you,” Jughead said, giving her a sort of salute with his beer as they walked away.

            Behind them the girl called out, “Nice meeting you too, Jughead.”

            They found Veronica at a table up front and she said, “You guys were gone forever. What took you so long?”

            “You’re welcome,” Jughead said pointedly, putting the martini down in front of her.

            “Thank you, Juggie,” she said, voice saccharine sweet. “Oh, Archie’s coming out!”

            Archie walked up to the microphone, guitar hanging in front of him from the strap. One hand grasped the neck of the guitar, the other curling around the microphone stand tightly as he said, “Thank you all for coming out tonight. I have some new material for you guys. This one I just wrote last week and it’s pretty special to me. Anyway, I hope you like it. This is _Once Upon A Coffee Shop_.”

            Betty’s eyes widened and beside her Veronica breathed out, “No way.”

            Jughead shook his head and said, “I sincerely hope this goes better than the last time he wrote a song for a girl.”

            Veronica asked, “What happened?”

            “She switched schools.”

            “Shhhh,” Betty said, swatting his arm.

            Archie began to sing and Betty watched, entranced by his voice and the lyrics that he wove together. As the chorus came to a close, Jughead looked over at her and said, “I guess it's safe to say you’re not leaving town?”

 

* * *

 

            The next day, Betty was working the cash register at the coffee shop when Archie walked in. He smiled at her, stepping into the three or four person line. Betty was hardly able to focus on the orders before him and she was fairly certain she gave someone a scone for free. It didn’t matter, though, when Archie stepped up, all coy smiles and boy-next-door good looks.

            “Hey Betty,” he said.

            “Hi Archie. Thank you again for inviting Veronica and I to your show last night. You were great. I loved your new songs.”

            “I was hoping you would,” he said.

            “So, are you here for your usual?” she asked.

            “Yes,” Archie said. “Medium latte.”

            “Alrighty, that will be $4.89.”

            Archie handed over his credit card and she swiped it in the register. Archie went to move over to the side to wait for his drink, but then said, “Hey, Betty?”

            “Yeah?” she asked.

            He rocked a bit on his heels and asked, “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

            “Tomorrow night? Um, nothing. I’m doing nothing. What are you doing?”

            He laughed a bit. “I was sort of hoping that I could take you to dinner.”

            “I’d really like that.”

            The man behind Archie in line cleared his throat and Betty stifled a laugh as she held out her hand and said, “Quick, give me your phone.”

            He put it in her hand and she put her phone number in his contacts. She handed it back to him and said, “We can make plans later.”

            He nodded, a wide grin on his face. “Okay.”

            “Hey Romeo, you got her number. Move on,” the guy behind him griped.

            Betty laughed, covering it with a dainty cough. Archie shuffled over to where the drinks came up and Betty watched him for a moment before turning her attention to her new customer.

            “What can I get you?”

 

* * *

 

            Veronica knew the minute that Betty walked into the apartment that Archie paid her a visit at work. There was a certain pep to her step and when she asked her how work was Betty smiled wistfully and said, “Amazing.”

            “Andrews finally manned up, didn’t he?”

            Betty clutched her purse tightly and said, “He asked me out to dinner tomorrow.”

            “Betty!”

            “I know!” she said excitedly. “You should have seen him. He was so nervous.”

            “Do you know where you’re going yet?”

            Betty shook her head. “No, but I gave him my phone number and he should be texting me more information.”

            “You exchanged numbers? Very nice. There may be hope for you yet in the dating world, Betty Cooper.” Veronica examined her nails and casually asked, “So, was Jughead there?”

            “No. He has Engligh literature Friday afternoons so he writes at home in the morning.”

            Veronica smirked at Betty knowing Jughead’s schedule, and filed it away as even more evidence that Betty’s feelings for Jughead were perhaps less than platonic. Deciding to see if she could take it a bit farther, Veronica stretched her legs out on the couch and said, “Jughead looked good last night.”

            Betty blinked in confusion and said, “You were making fun of his sweatshirt.”

            “Only in good fun,” Veronica returned lightly. “Although it wouldn’t hurt him to break out of monochromatic colors.”

            “That’s not Jug,” Betty returned.  She actually liked the way he dressed.  There was something comforting in always knowing he'd show up with that grey beanie and sweatshirt.

            “He’s not seeing anyone, is he?” Veronica asked innocently.

            Betty stiffened at the question, and she swallowed hard before she said, “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

            “Just curious,” she said. “My social calendar has been pretty sparse as of late.” Her eyes flashed gleefully. “We could double date, B.”

            “That would be fun,” Betty said, voice false.

            “Anyway, I’m going to go out and do some shopping,” Veronica announced, standing up. “You want to come?”

            Betty shook her head. “No, I’m good. Thank you, though.”

            “Of course, B.” Veronica grabbed her purse off the edge of the couch and walked out of the apartment.

 

* * *

 

            Jughead walked out of his English literature class, his messenger bag heavy on his shoulder from the numerous books shoved inside. He adjusted the bag higher on his shoulder and murmured, “I need to work out more. Or carry less books.”

            He stepped out of the building and was surprised to see Veronica Lodge sitting on the front steps, long tan legs stretched out in front of her. She drew appreciative glances from most of the people who passed, male and female.   Jughead was less than enthused to see her.

            “Veronica, what are you doing here?”

            “Waiting for you,” she returned, standing up.

            “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked sarcastically.

            “I need to talk to you about Betty.”

            “Did something happened?” he asked immediately. “Is she okay?”

            “Jumping to devastating conclusions at the mention of her name. Well, I was definitely right about you,” Veronica said.

            “Right about what?”

            “You like Betty.” Jughead’s immediate instinct was to refute this statement, but before he could say something Veronica said, “Don’t deny it. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. You have it bad, Jughead Jones. And who can blame you? Betty Cooper is a catch.”

            “Is there a point to this?” Jughead asked.

            Veronica smiled appreciatively. “See, this is what I like about you. You cut to the chase. We have that in common.”

            “Look, I have another class to get to,” Jughead said.

            “I’m here because I think Betty likes you, too. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

            Jughead laughed sardonically. “Naturally. Look, Veronica, I appreciate you coming all this way, but you’re wrong. We all saw the Betty and Archie show last night.”

            “Forget about Betty and Archie,” Veronica said dismissively. “I’m telling you, she likes you. When that girl I paid was talking to you at the bar, Betty was definitely jealous.”

            “You paid off someone to talk to me?” he asked incredulously.

            “With your dazzling social skills I couldn’t exactly rely on you to get the job done,” Veronica returned drily. “Jughead, trust me. I know Betty.”

            “Do you?” he asked pointedly.

            “Yes, I do. Betty is many things, but in touch with her deeper feelings is not one of them. I happen to think that the best way to bring out repressed feelings is through subterfuge.”

            “Of course you do,” Jughead deadpanned.

            “Which is why you are going to go on a date with me,” Veronica said.

            “Excuse me?”

            “Jughead, Betty needs something to push her into action. The girl at the bar didn’t do it. Your sappy coffee dates didn’t do it. But her best friend asking you out? That’ll do, Juggie. That’ll do just fine. And it’s risk free, because I’m not actually going to date you, no offense.”

            “None taken. But she didn’t need any threat for Archie,” Jughead reminded her. “They set up their first date today, by the way.”

            “That’s because Archie is a superficial crush,” Veroncia spelled out slowly. “There is nothing real there. It’s all…heart eye emojis. There’s no real chance of her getting hurt. But you’re something different. You’re actually real and I think that terrifies her.”

            Jughead hated to admit it, but Veronica made a compelling argument. Betty lived her entire life fighting for control, and entering a relationship meant giving part of that up to another person. That couldn’t be easy for her.

            “Look, there really is no downside to this. Best case scenario, you get Betty. Worst case scenario, you spent a little extra time with me.”

            Jughead couldn’t quite wrap his head around the possibility that Betty had feelings for him. It seemed like such an impossibility, but then there were moments. He felt it on the subway ride after the robbery. Her bright grin when she saw him at the coffee shop. Her hand on his shoulder when she refilled his coffee.  But then Jughead remembered the slight problem of his best friend practically being in love with her. Archie had been there for him nearly since birth. He couldn’t do this to him.

            “I think I’ll pass,” Jughead said, his bag feeling even heavier on his shoulder.

            “You’re thinking about Archie, aren’t you? It’s noble, I’ll give you that.”

            “I think not screwing over your best friend is more common decency than nobility.”

            “You’re not screwing him over. This is only a recon mission, Jughead. Besides, it’s not like they’re soulmates. They haven’t even gone on a date.”

            “It doesn’t feel right.”

            “If anything this is the smart thing to do. You wouldn’t want to bring up your feelings to Archie for no reason, right?”

            Jughead clammed up at the thought of bringing his feelings up to Archie at all. He didn’t really talk about that stuff with anyone. He’d always been baffled by Archie’s openness. It seemed like such a risk.

            Veronica saw that Jughead wasn’t convinced and she sighed and asked him, “Jughead, have you ever met anyone like Betty?”

            “Like Betty?” He considered it for a moment and said, “No. I guess not. They don’t really make people like her here.”

            “And have you ever met anyone else that makes you feel like Betty does?”

            The truth sat uncomfortably in the pit of Jughead’s stomach.

            “Why are you doing this?” Jughead asked after a moment.

            “Because I want what’s best for Betty,” Veronica said. “And I think that’s you. Archie’s a great guy, but I don’t think he sees Betty like you do. You see all of her.”

            The implication in her words was clear, and Jughead thought to himself that maybe he’d underestimated her.

            “So, what do you say, Juggie? Will you fake date me?”

            Jughead paused for a long moment before he said, “No."  Veronica's face fell and he said, “I will _one_ _-fake-date_ you. One. That is where I draw the line.”

            Veronica shrieked in excitement, drawing a few looks, and threw her arms around him. She pulled back and said, “That other class you mentioned was a lie, right?”

            “What? How –“

            “Never try to manipulate a master manipulator,” Veronica said lightly, linking her arm with his. “Come on, Jughead. We have some planning to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think??? I love writing Veronica and Jughead together - I find their dynamic really entertaining. I had more planned for this chapter but it was getting Tolstoy long. Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Five

            Betty waited anxiously for Archie’s text and when it came she was so excited that she nearly dropped her phone into her soapy water filled kitchen sink.

 

_Hi Betty. So, I was thinking Ricardo’s for dinner tomorrow tonight._

_Does that work for you?_

            Betty typed a response quickly and proofread it three times for typos before pressing send.

 

_That sounds perfect. I love Italian food._

            She put her phone to the side and tried to get back to her dish washing, only to stare forlornly at her phone as she waited for his response. A few seconds later, it pinged.

 

_Perfect. I’ll pick you up at 7:00._

            Betty grasped her phone tightly and rushed over to Veronica, who was carefully painting her nails on the coffee table.

            “Archie finally texted me,” Betty said excitedly, sitting next to her.

            “He waited a cool, what, eight hours? That’s actually sort of impressive. He struck me as more of an eager beaver.”

            “We’re getting dinner tomorrow night. What do you think I should wear?” Betty mentally went through her closet. “A dress, right? Or does that look like I’m trying too hard?”

            “A dress is not trying too hard,” Veronica said authoritatively. “Besides, it’s your very you and you should look like yourself for your date. You’ll be most comfortable that way.”

            Betty nodded enthusiastically. “I have this yellow sundress that I’ve been waiting to wear. You know, the one with the polka dots? Do you think that’s too much?”

            “No, that is a great dress,” Veronica said. “You should absolutely wear it.”

            Veronica finished up her last nail and screwed the nail polish bottle closed and put it to the side. She glanced over at Betty, who seemed lost in her own Archie Andrews world. This seemed as good of a time as ever to set her plan into motion. She turned toward Betty and said, “I actually have a date tomorrow night, too.”

            “You do?” Betty asked in surprise. “That’s great, Veronica.”

            “I think so,” Veronica said, pausing before innocently adding, “It’s with Jughead.”

            Betty’s head whipped toward her and she stammered, “You have a date with Jughead?”

            “All the stories that you told me about him made me realize what I great guy he is,” Veronica said, delighting at the maelstrom of emotions passing over Betty’s face before her friend was able to hide them. “Weren’t you telling me before that I should try dating someone for more than their face?”

            “I did say that,” Betty said slowly. “But…Jughead? Do you really think that’s such a good idea?”

            “Of course I do,” Veronica said. ‘That’s why I asked him out.”

            Betty didn’t push her logic, although she had her reservations.  

            “Anyway, where are you and Archie going?” Veronica asked casually, beginning to blow on her wet nails.

            Betty had been lost in her own thoughts and said, “Oh, um, Ricardo’s.”

            Veronica widened her eyes and said, “Get out of here. That’s where Jughead and I are going. What a weird coincidence. Those boys must think alike.”

            “Wow. Yeah, that is a weird coincidence.” Veronica continued to blow on her nails, waiting for what she knew would come next. After a few seconds of silence, Betty asked, “Would you guys like to join us?”

            “Like a double date?” Veronica asked innocently.

            “Yeah, a double date.”

            “Are you sure? Veronica asked, giving Betty an out, although, she was doubtful Betty would take it. Sure enough, she didn’t.

            “Well, I mean, if we’re both going to be there anyway, why not?”

            Veronica smiled wide. “Perfect. Then it’s a date.”

 

* * *

 

            The next morning, Veronica stopped at the coffee shop, giving Betty a small wave before walking over to Jughead’s booth and settling across from him. He looked up from his laptop and didn’t make any attempt to hide his exasperation as he drawled, “What are you doing here?”

            Veronica leaned forward and said, “Visiting my hot date at the coffee shop. Come on, we need to sell this.”

            “Do we have to sell it _here_?”

            “Well, except for here you are in class or home doing God knows what. I don’t have much to work with.”

            “I like being here alone,” he said. “It’s how I get work done.”

            “Oh relax. You can get work done tomorrow. Oh! Betty’s coming over here.”

            Jughead felt himself panic a bit and said, “What? You didn’t-“

            “Hi guys,” Betty said, coming to a stop at the edge of their table. Her grin was impossibly wide, a sure sign that she was overcompensating. “How are you?”

            “Fine, thanks Betty,” Jughead said tightly.

            “We’re great,” Veronica said smoothly. “Just ironing out the details for tonight.”

            Jughead looked at her strangely and she lightly kicked him under the table.

            “I’m looking forward to our double date tonight,” Betty said. “Double the people, double the fun, right?”

            “Our what?” Jughead asked in confusion.

            “Oh, Veronica didn’t tell you yet,” Betty said, eyes wide. “I just figured when she said you two were ironing out the details –“

            “I was just getting to that part,” Veronica interjected. “Jughead, Archie and Betty are also going to Ricardo’s tonight. So, Betty kindly offered to squeeze us in at their table.”

            “I hope you don’t mind,” Betty said, teeth worrying her bottom lip. “I just figured that since we’ll both be there-“

            “Oh, yeah, that’s fine,” Jughead said. “A double date is great. Did you, uh, mention it to Archie?”

            Betty nodded. “He thinks it’s a great idea.”

            Jughead doubted that, but he didn’t argue.

            “Well, anyway, I won’t bother you guys anymore,” Betty said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

            “Yeah, see you tonight.”

            Veronica wiggled her fingers in a wave as Betty headed back to the front register. When she turned her attention back to Jughead, he was looking at her with an expression that could only be described as murderous.

            “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Veronica said lightly, reaching forward and taking a bit of his muffin.

            “We’re crashing their date? What the hell are you thinking?” She took another bit of his muffin. “And stop eating my muffin!”

            “You are very territorial with your food,” Veronica said.

            “Yeah, well, I paid for it. That typically allows someone to be a little territorial.”

            “We are not crashing their date,” Veronica said. “It was Betty’s idea for it to be a double date when she heard that we were going to the same place.”

            “We weren’t going to the same place. We weren’t going anywhere.”

            “This is all part of the plan,” Veronica assured him. “Trust in the process, Jughead.”

            “Is this what you do in your free time?” Jughead asked. “Meddle in other people’s lives?”

            “Only if the other people are worth it. I happen to think Betty is worth it. And you.”

            Jughead snorted. “I didn’t know you had such a high opinion of me.”

            “It’s developed over time,” Veronica admitted. “But you’ve proven to be a good guy, Jughead Jones. And I think the good guy should win sometimes.”

            “Archie’s a good guy, too.”

            “He is,” Veronica admitted. “But he’s not the right guy. You are.”

            Jughead was still uneasy with Veronica’s unwavering belief in that statement and just said, “I guess we’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

            Betty sat in front of her mirror, carefully applying her blush and trying to ignore the fact that her thoughts drifted to Jughead and Veronica more than Archie in the time before their date. It shouldn’t bother her that Jughead and Veronica were going on a date. If anything, she should be happy. Veronica was her best friend and while she didn’t exactly know what Jughead was to her, she wished him nothing but the best. Veronica deserved someone as wonderful as Jughead, and vice versus. Still, she couldn’t shake the pile of unresolved feelings that settled in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Veronica and Jughead dating.

            She heard a knock on the front door and Veronica called out from her bedroom, “Can you get that, B?”

            Betty stood up and smoothed the skirt of her dress, taking one last glace in the mirror before she headed out toward the door. She expected to find Archie on the other side, but instead it was Jughead. Her face flushed as his eyes travelled over her yellow dress. His eyes met hers again and he murmured, “You look really nice, Betty.”

            “So do you,” she said.

            Archie walked up behind Jughead, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Jughead glanced back and murmured, “Flowers. I knew I forgot something.”

            “Boys, don’t just stand out there,” Veronica called out from the living room. “Come inside!”

            Betty looked back at her and blinked rapidly as she took in Veronica’s tight black dress and heels. Her lips were painted dark red, eyes lined and piercing. Jughead walked past Betty toward Veronica, who pulled him into a hug. When they separated he told her, “You look like a mob widow.”

            Veronica smirked. “Well, thank you, Jughead. That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

            “You look absolutely beautiful,” Archie told Betty.

            Betty pulled her gaze away from Jughead and Veronica and said, “Thank you.”

            “These are for you,” Archie said, holding up the flowers. Betty grinned and took them from him, giving them a quick sniff.

            “They’re beautiful, Archie. Thank you. I’ll go find a vase for them.”

            Veronica watched Betty walk over to the kitchen and quietly told Jughead, “Go get yourself a glass of water.”

            “What?” he said in confusion.

            Veronica shot him an exasperated look and raised her voice as she said, “The glasses are over by the microwave. Hey Betty, can you grab Jughead a glass for water?”

            Veronica raised her eyebrows at Jughead and quietly said, “Shoo!”

            Betty was crouched down in front of the cabinets, searching for a vase, and faintly heard Veronica call her name. She pulled herself up to standing to see what Veronica needed, when Jughead walked over.

            “I’m looking for a water glass?” he said.

            “Oh sure,” Betty said, turning over to the cabinet next to the microwave and pulling open the door. She gestured toward the large expanse of glasses and said, “Help yourself.”

            “Thanks, Betty.”

            The kitchen wasn’t particularly spacious, and his arm brushed against hers as he reached forward to pull down a glass. He half expected her to move away from him, that was certainly his instinct, but she didn’t. She looked over at him, gaze falling down to his grey button-down.

            “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not in a t-shirt,” she said.

            “I only break out the button-downs for special occasions.”

            “Well, you look nice.”

            “Those are nice flowers,” he said, gesturing toward the bouquet in her hand. She glanced over at them and said, “They are, aren’t they? But I can’t find a vase for them anywhere in here. I know we had one.”

            “Let me help,” Jughead said, forgetting about his fake glass of water as he started opening cabinets. They were all remarkably tidy, plates and bowls in perfectly spaced stacks. He glanced over at Betty and joked, “I’m guessing you’re in charge of the kitchen?”

            She smiled a bit at his tone and asked, “What makes you say that?”

            “Oh, nothing in particular.”

            He crouched down and pulled open the cabinet next to the dishwasher. Nestled behind what looked like a rarely used food processor, Jughead spied a dusty vase. He grasped it with his hand and stood triumphantly.

            “Oh perfect!” Betty said, taking it from him. “I knew I had one.”

            She quickly filled the vase with water and added the flowers.

            “They look nice,” Archie said, joining them. “They match your dress, Betty.”

            Betty looked down at her yellow dress and murmured, “Oh, yeah, they do.” She laughed happily. “I didn’t realize that before.”

            “We should get going,” Veronica said loudly, perturbed at Archie ruining the perfect moment she engineered between Betty and Jughead. “We don’t want to be late, do we?”

 

* * *

 

            Veronica always enjoyed a challenge and she viewed tonight as her most important challenge, yet. She loved Betty like a sister and like most older sisters – by two months, which she reminded Betty of often - she felt protective. Betty deserved an epic love story.   Not something cute or temporary. She deserved something real. Someone who filled her so completely that she couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t there. Betty changed around Archie. She became smaller, somehow, melting beneath his utter Archie- _ness;_ and Archie, not knowing any better, welcomed the changes. It was the Betty he knew. The adoring fan sitting front row at his show. Betty didn’t change around Jughead, because she couldn’t. He saw her for exactly who she was, and that was incredibly important. Being _seen_ was important.

            Now all Veronica had to do was to get Betty to really _see_ Jughead.

            The waitress at the restaurant led the foursome to a large booth that wrapped around a table and Veronica quickly calculated the optimal seating arrangement.   Betty scooted in toward the center, Archie following her. Veronica nudged Jughead to the other side of the booth and said, “You go sit by Betty. I get claustrophobic that far into a booth.”

            Jughead hesitated before scooting in next to Betty. Both of them were settled on one side of the table then, Archie and Veronica facing off on the other two. Veronica smiled inwardly at her handiwork and picked up her menu, happily flipping through the pages.

            “So, guys, what’s good here?” she asked.

            “I always order the chicken parmesan,” Archie said.

            “The pasta carbonara sounds really good,” Betty said. “What about you, Jug? What do you get here?”

            “Oh, um, I don’t know, actually. I’ve never been here.”

            “I thought you came here a lot,” Betty said. “That’s why you chose it.”

            “No,” Jughead said slowly, trying to come up with an excuse when Archie, who knew very well that he didn’t go to Ricardo’s or any other restaurant a lot, sat across from him. “I just always wanted to try this place. It looked good.”

            “Everything looks good,” Veronica announced. “I think I’m ordering one of everything. Juggie, I hope you don’t mind.”

            The waitress came and they ordered a bottle of wine and calamari for the table. After a lukewarm toast that Veronica nudged Jughead to lead, Archie said, “Hey, I totally forgot. We should have done a toast for one of Jughead’s stories being published.”

            Betty looked at Jughead in surprise and said, “One of your stories is being published? How did you not tell me this?”

            “It just happened yesterday.”

            “Jughead, this is amazing!”

            “It’s not a big deal,” he said, clearly uncomfortable at the attention. He picked up his wine glass and took a large gulp.

            “Where is it being published?” Betty asked. “Come on, give us some details! I need to know what newsstands to go frequent. ”

            “It’s just a small literary magazine. I doubt anyone will even read it.”

            “I didn’t know I was going out with such a hotshot,” Veronica said. “I don’t know any other published writers.”

            “I’m not published yet,” he said. “It’s _being_ published. I.e. there is still time for them to come to their senses.”

            “Don’t be ridiculous, Jug,” Archie said. “You deserve this.”

            “You absolutely deserve this,” Betty said steadfastly. “What story is it? One of the ones I read?”

            Archie looked between the pair with mild surprise and said, “Betty’s read your stories?”

            She nodded and said, “He let me see some at the coffee shop. He was pretty reluctant at first, but I wore him down.”

            “Wow, that’s pretty impressive,” Archie said, gaze sliding to his friend. “Jughead’s usually pretty cagey with his writing. Even I haven’t been able to convince him to let me ready any.”

            “Well, soon all of New York will be reading it,” Veronica piped in, positively beaming with the way the evening was developing. It was better than she could have even expected.

            “Seriously, congratulations, Jug,” Betty said softly, laying her hand on his arm and squeezing it gently. “I’m really happy for you.”

            Jughead’s eyes met hers and she felt her breath catch in her throat just a bit. They’d been this close before, but there had always been something to distract her. She didn’t notice the flecks of green in his eyes before or how there was a small scar just above his left eyebrow. Archie cleared his throat and the pair of them jumped, Betty cramming a calamari round into her mouth and Jughead suddenly finding the menu extremely interesting.

            Veronica poured herself another glass of wine, thoroughly enjoying the show.

 

* * *

 

            Two courses and a lifetime of awkward silences and overcompensating conversation later, the foursome was back at Betty and Veronica’s apartment. Betty stood with Archie outside in the hallway, feeling nerves curl in her stomach as she said goodbye for the night. Jughead was inside with Veronica, the latter telling him, “Let them have their little moment,” before pulling him inside.

            “I had a really nice time tonight,” Betty said, hands clasped in front her. “Thank you for dinner.”

            “I had a nice time, too,” he said, stepping closer and gently taking her hands in his. She froze for a moment, afraid that he would turn her palms over and see the scars that hadn’t quite faded yet, but he only clasped them between his own, her former trauma remaining hidden. “You are one of the most perfect people I have ever met, Betty.”

            She almost laughed at his words. She wasn’t perfect. Far from it.

            “I mean it,” he said, letting go of one of her hands and tracing her cheek with his fingertips. “You are absolutely perfect.”

            He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. Betty’s eyes drifted shut and she slowly kissed him back, urging something – anything – to happen inside of her. She wished for butterflies or flips. Hell, she would have settled for nausea. Archie pulled away, forehead resting against hers, and murmured, “Nothing, right?”

            She pulled away from him. “What?”

            “Come on, Betty,” he said, smiling sadly. “We both know that wasn’t what it was supposed to be.”

            Betty’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Archie.”

            “Don’t,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

            “I _really_ liked you,” she said. “Or at least I thought I did.”

            “I think you just like someone else more.”

            “What? Who?”

            Archie laughed and said, “Seriously? Come on, Betty.”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Betty said. “Honestly. I don’t.”

            Archie studied her face and said, “Wow. You really don’t.” She gave him a questioning look and he said, “You like Jughead.  And I'm pretty sure he likes you, too.”

            “What? No, I don’t,” Betty said immediately.

            “Yes. You do,” Archie said.

            “You’re wrong,” Betty said stubbornly. “Jughead and I are just friends. Besides, he doesn’t…” she trailed off when she remembered the way their eyes locked at dinner.

            “See?”

            “None of it matters, anyway,” Betty said. “Even if what you say is true, he was Veronica’s date tonight, remember?”

            Archie laughed and said, “I’ve known Jughead for my entire life and he has not once even been friends with someone like Veronica. I have a feeling your roommate strong-armed him into tonight for whatever reason.”

            “I don’t know what to say,” Betty said, feeling at a loss in more ways than one.

            “You should tell him,” Archie said after a moment. She looked up at him with a look that could only be described as conflicted. “Because he won’t guess it for himself. The thing about Jughead is he never believes in the good in his life. You have to convince him.”

            Archie leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight, Betty.”

            “Goodnight, Archie.”

            Betty watched him walk down the hallways and step onto the elevator, her mind a whirl of confusion and green-speckled eyes. She walked back into the apartment and directly past Veronica and Jughead in the kitchen.

            “B, you okay?” Veronica asked as she passed.

            “I’m fine,” Betty said, avoiding Jughead’s gaze. “I’m going to go to bed. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

            Betty closed her bedroom door behind her and a few minutes later Sara Bareilles blared through the door. Jughead looked at Veronica uncertainly and asked, “Is this good or bad?”

            Veronica grinned beside him. “This is good, Juggie. This is very good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback makes me VERY happy :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I've been away from this story from AGES! Hope you all enjoy this!!

Chapter Six

Veronica walked into the coffee shop and placed her order before heading over to Jughead’s table.  She read an email on the computer screen over Jughead’s shoulder and said, “A short story reading?  How New York City.”

            Jughead pulled his computer screen down and said, “Hasn’t anyone told you that it’s rude to read over someone’s shoulder?  A laptop is a sacred space, Veronica.”

            “Oh please, it’s not like you’re watching porn or something,” she said lightly.  “So, whose reading is it?  Anyone I know? Is it James Franco?  I’ve heard he’s been doing these intimate readings around the city, and I happen to think we’d hit it off.”

            “It’s not James Franco,” Jughead said, rolling his eyes.  “And his work is overrated.  It’s my dramatic writing professor.  I don’t really want to go, but he’s the one who sent my work to The Brooklyn Rail.  I figure that pretty much means that I need to be there.”

             “I’ve never considered a professorial type before, but, I am willing to try everything once.”

            “You are not invited,” Jughead told her blandly. 

            Veronica sighed dramatically and told him, “Just because we went on one date does not mean you get to screen my men.”

            “Who says I’m screening for you?”

            She narrowed her eyes.  “Are you saying that you are protecting your professor from _me_?”

            “Yes, Veronica.  That is exactly what I am saying.”

            “I’m a little offended right now,” Veronica said lightly.  “Anyway, how are you and Betty doing?  I try to pry at home, but I think she’s on to me.”

            Jughead shrugged.  “Same as last time you asked.”

            “I don’t understand this,” Veronica said unhappily.  “It’s been three weeks since our double date.  _Something_ should be happening.”

            “I think it’s best to just leave it alone.  We tried and it didn’t work.  I’ve moved on.”

            Veronica smirked.  “Oh really?  You have?”

            “Yes, I have.”

            Veronica laughed archly and said, “You have not moved on.  You are pining, Jughead Jones.  I can see it.”

            “I’m not pining,” Jughead told her pointedly.  “I don’t pine.”

            “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Veronica assured him.  She placed her hand over his gamely, but he pulled away irritably.  “Okay, I can see we’re in denial today.  I won’t push.”

            “I’m not in denial.  It’s not being in denial to give up on something that is never going to happen.  And Betty and me?  Never going to happen.”

            Veronica wasn’t quite ready to give up, and she assessed her options when Betty came over with the double shot mocha that she ordered. 

            “I added some extra whipped cream and sprinkles,” Betty said, placing the mug down with a flourish.  “That’s a friend’s special.”

            “It’s good to be a friend,” Veronica said with a grin.  “Thanks, B.”

            “You’re welcome.”  Betty looked over at Jughead and asked, “Are you good with your coffee, Jug?”

            He nodded.  “Yeah, I’m good.  Thanks.”

            Jughead turned his attention back to his laptop and Veronica landed on her next move in bridging the romantic gap between her two friends.  Maybe Jughead was right that he and Betty weren’t meant to be together.  But, she wasn’t quite ready to call it. 

            “Hey, B, did you ever find someone to write your article on?”  Veronica asked.

            “No,” Betty said, disappointment evident in her voice.  “With work here and everything at school, I’ve barely had time to research anything.”

            “You know, Jughead was just telling me about how his professor is doing a reading of some of his works tonight.  I bet you that he could get you an interview.”

            “That would be amazing,” Betty said.  “Do you mind, Jug?”

            Jughead grudgingly looked up from his computer screen and said, “An interview with my professor?  Yeah, probably.  Why?”

            “I’m supposed to do a traditional New York profile.  I was planning on doing a series on the street performers by Veronica and my apartment, but I just haven’t had time to interview them.”

            “The reading is tonight.  Jughead mentioned he’s going.  Maybe you can go with?” Veronica offered innocently, ignoring the look that Jughead shot her across the table. 

            “I don’t want to impose,” Betty said automatically. 

            “I’m sure you wouldn’t be,” Veronica said.  “Right, Jughead?  Betty wouldn’t be imposing.”

            “Not at all,” Jughead relented.  “It’s tonight at eight o’clock.  Anderson’s bookstore over in Greenwich Village.”

            “I’ll be there.  Thanks, Jug.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            Betty paused for a moment and then said, “Jug, your coffee-“

            “I’m good,” he said.  “Thanks again.”

            Betty’s cheeks flushed.  “Oh, right.  I already asked that.  Um, anyway, I’ll see you tonight.”

            He nodded and watched her make her way back to the front desk.  Jughead looked back at Veronica, who seemed all too innocent with her wide eyes and whipped cream topped mocha.

            “I know what you’re doing.”

            “I’m helping out a friend,” Veronica returned easily.

            “You can’t con the person who you ran a con with,” Jughead told her slowly.  “I know you, Lodge.  I’ve seen the inner workings.  I know how the sausage gets made.”

            “Oh Juggie, you’ve only scratched the surface.” 

 

* * *

 

 

            After a few hours of writing, Jughead headed home and got ready for his professor’s reading.  His nerves were pulled tight with the knowledge that Betty would be joining him.  He should have known better than to ever conspire with the likes of Veronica Lodge.  It forged a strange bond between them that made her somehow take his happiness personally, and she was convinced that his happiness was rooted in one Betty Cooper.  She wasn’t entirely incorrect, but Jughead also knew that they had to be practical.  Veronica’s plan worked.  Betty saw them together and she reacted.  But, clearly, it wasn’t enough to push her to more.  Was it disappointing?  Absolutely.  Unexpected?  Not really.  He spent most of his life not getting what he wanted.  Veronica seemed less well-versed in that area.      

            Jughead got to the bookstore early and spent some time in the history section before he spotted his professor.  He was a tall man with wiry limbs and a shock of grey hair.  He always looked like he rushed out of his apartment in the middle of dressing, his shirt half tucked in or socks mismatching.  Tonight, he seemed somewhat less disheveled, save for the quick pocket square he very clearly just wadded up and shoved in his tweed blazer’s pocket.  Jughead began to walk over and say hello when he saw Betty walk in behind him.  She looked anxious, palms curled tightly at her sides as she scanned the room.  She spotted him and seemed to take a cleansing breath before walking over and plastering on a grin that he easily saw past.  He took some comfort in seeing that she was as uncomfortable with all of this as he was.  At least they had company in their misery.

            “Hi Jughead,” she said, joining him.  She reached up and unnecessarily smoothed the hair at the crown of her head.  “It’s pretty crowded in here.”

            “I shot my professor an email before this and he said he’ll sit down with you after the reading for a quick interview.  Does that work?”

            Betty nodded.  “Yeah, that’s great.  Thanks again, Jughead.  I can’t even tell you what a huge help this is to me.”

            “It’s not a big deal.  All I had to do was send an email.”

            “Well, I still appreciate it.”

            “He’s actually heading this way now,” Jughead said. He waved over his professor and said, “Professor Danforth, this is Betty Cooper, the journalism student I emailed you about.”

            “Oh yes, Ms. Cooper.  It’s very nice to meet you.  Are we still on to chat after this?”

            “Absolutely.  Thank you so much for agreeing to speak with me.”

            “A friend of Jughead’s is a friend of mine,” Professor Danforth returned smoothly.  “He’s one of my brightest students in years.”

            Betty grinned and looked over at Jughead, who looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin.  “Do you know one of his stories is being published in The Brooklyn Rail?”

            “I do, in fact.  I’m the one who sent it.  Which, actually, leads me to this next request.”  He turned his attention to Jughead.  “I’d like you to open my reading tonight with one of your pieces.”

            “Wow, um, I appreciate the offer but I don’t have anything with me.”

            “Don’t worry,” he said, unclasping the lock on his worn briefcase and pulling out a small stack of papers.  “I brought your piece from this week.  Astoundingly good writing.”

            “From this week?”  Jughead said, voice strange.  “Are you sure?”

            “It’s the best thing you’ve written,” Professor Danforth told him, handing him the story.

            “It’s sort of personal,” Jughead said.  Betty watched him curiously as he tugged a bit at his grey beanie. 

            “So?” 

            “I don’t know if I’m comfortable reading it in front of a crowd like this,” Jughead said. 

            “It’s up to you, but embracing the discomfort is part of the work.  Wonderful things happen when you are able to do that.”

            “I think I’ll pass, but thank you.”

            “Alright, if that’s what you want.  Anyway, I see a couple I need to go greet.  I’ll probably start the reading in five or ten minutes.  If you change your mind about sharing that wonderful piece with the room, let me know.”

            Jughead nodded.  “Yeah, I will.”

            Betty watched Jughead’s professor walk away before turning to Jughead and saying, “I think you should read your story.”

            He shook his head immediately and said, “Betty, it’s not happening.”

            “Why not?  This is an amazing opportunity for you.  Look at all the people here.”

            “It’s too personal,” Jughead said, voice getting tight.  “I don’t know these people.  They don’t know me.  It’s just – I’m not doing it.”

            “How is sharing this story any different than the one in The Brooklyn Rail?  You told me that one was about your father.  That’s personal.”

            “Someone reading a story in their own home and me actually standing up there and reading it…it’s different,” Jughead said.  “This story - it’s not something I can share like that.  You don’t understand.”

            “You’re right, I don’t,” she said.  “And I don’t think I could ever be brave enough to do what I’m saying you should.  But, I still think you should.  You are so talented, Jug.  You shouldn’t pass up this opportunity.”

            He knew that she was right, but it didn’t make him any less nervous.  He held the story tightly in his hand, wondering if he could really be brave enough to share this with an entire room of strangers.  There were parts of his childhood he didn’t share with anyone, even Archie.  He didn’t like being pitied.  It happened enough with a parent in jail.  There was enough to pity without the staggering negligence of the remaining parent.  For years he justified his mother’s actions with threadbare explanations, but when he sat down to write his piece the week before, he wrote the whole truth, parts of which hadn’t even been fully visible to him over the years.  He glanced over at Betty, who watched him quietly.  Oddly, in their short time knowing each other she’d somehow seen more of him than anyone else.  They both were a bit broken, which made it easier for them to spot the cracks in the other.  His deflecting humor.  Her palms.  Without a word, he handed her the story.  She looked at him questioningly and he nodded.

            Betty held the story carefully in her hands and read quickly.  She saw immediately why Jughead was nervous to share the story. It broke her heart to read about his mother’s abandonment and the resulting devastation.  She hadn’t known that his childhood was so rough, but the picture that he painted was bleak.  It was a wonder he was any sort of adjusted on the other side of it all.  When she was finished she looked up at him and said, “I’m so sorry, Jug.  I had no idea what you went through.”

            “Is it stupid that I feel like I’m betraying her?  I spent most of my childhood raising my little sister because our own mother was too busy chasing thrills while her husband was locked up, and I’m actually worried what people will think of her.”

            “It’s not stupid,” Betty told him.  “For better or for worse, she’s still your mom.”

            “I don’t even know where she is now,” Jughead said.  “The last postcard I got was from Las Vegas over two years ago.  She was asking for money and I sent it like an idiot.”

            “You’re not an idiot,” Betty said, reaching forward and taking his hand.

            “I thought she might come home,” Jughead said.  “Maybe she missed us.  But, obviously, she didn’t.  I don’t know why I thought it would be any different.”

            “I think you need to share this story tonight,” Betty said, squeezing his hands.  “You need to do it for yourself.”

            “Betty-“

            “Because after everything in that story, you somehow became this amazing, intelligent and caring man in front of me.  That is not something to be afraid of, Jug.  That’s something to celebrate.  _You_ are something to celebrate.”

            “Last chance to share your piece,” Professor Danforth said, joining them.  “The podium’s all ready if you’re willing, Mr. Jones.”

            Jughead looked over at Betty and her earnest gaze.  She smiled at him reassuringly and he said, “Okay.  I’ll do it.”

            “Fantastic,” Professor Danforth said, clapping Jughead’s back happily.  “Let’s not waste any more time.  Get on up to that podium, Jughead.”

            He weaved through the crowd, heart beating so madly that he could feel his pulse in his ears.  Jughead put his story on the podium and faced the audience, trying not to count each face as he nervously scanned the crowd.  His gaze settled on Betty and he felt the knots in his stomach loosen slightly.

            “Hi everyone, my name’s Jughead Jones.  I’m a student in Professor Danforth’s class and he asked that I start tonight off with a quick reading.  This is an original piece I wrote called _My Mother’s Keeper_.  I, uh, hope you enjoy it.”

            Betty’s eyes initially roved the crowd as Jughead read, curious to watch the crowd react to his words.  But eventually her gaze returned to him and the vivid expressions that passed on his face as he read.  He was reliving the experiences as he retold them, and she could tell it was difficult for him at times.  His shoulders hunched and his voice grew heavy.  She wondered if she’d given him the wrong advice to share his story, but then there was the triumphant finish.  Like a runner at the close of a marathon, Jughead looked both exhausted and content at the close of the story.  It had cost him, but he did it.  He left the podium to raucous applause and his professor deadpanned, “I’m a little unhappy to have to follow that now.”

            Jughead sat next to Betty and she leaned in and whispered, “I’m so proud of you, Jug.”

            He turned his head toward hers and she was startled by their sudden proximity.  Their noses nearly touched and Betty pulled back slightly, frightened by how much she’d wanted to lean forward and close the space between them.  Jughead seemed to have similar thoughts, but not nearly as much hesitation.  After what felt like a second for her and an eternity for him, he slipped his hand behind Betty’s neck and tugged her mouth against his.  He kissed her softly, having no idea if it was the right move but taking the risk, anyway.  He paused with his mouth against hers for a moment before pulling away.  Betty pressed her lips together, eyes wide and filled with so many conflicting emotions that Jughead didn’t quite know which to choose.  He had a general idea, though, when she stood suddenly and rushed out of the bookstore.  Jughead followed her out onto the sidewalk.

            “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

            “No, you didn’t,” she said, keeping her distance.  “I mean, you did, but it’s not you.  Please believe me, Jughead.  It is not you.  I just…I need time.  You know me.  God, you _know_ me, and…”

            “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, walking over to her and taking her hands in his.  “It’s okay, Betty.  I’ll give you time.  As much time as you need.”

            Betty blinked away tears and said, “Why?  After everything you know about me, why would you wait around?  You know that there’s no real cure for what I have, right?  The purging.  My palms.  It’s always just beneath the surface.  Always.  Every day – every meal – I make a conscious decision not to do it, and one of these days I will.  Because that’s the disease.”

            “You are not your disease, Betty.”

            “After what you’ve seen, how could you still want to be with me?” she asked.

            “After what I’ve seen?”  Jughead repeated incredulously.  “Do you want to know what I’ve seen?  I’ve seen you be brave.  I’ve seen you be strong.  I’ve seen you hold up all the people around you even when you’re crumbling.   Betty, how could I _not_ want to be with you after what I’ve seen?”  It occurred to him then that her own feelings on the matter were presently undisclosed, and he said, “I guess the real question is, do you want to be with me?”

            “It’s not that simple.”

            “Yes, actually.  It is.”

             “What if it doesn’t work out?  What happens then?”

            “I’ll find another coffee shop,” he returned immediately.

            Betty laughed despite herself and said, “I mean it, Jug.  I need you in my life.  I can’t lose you.”

            Jughead ran his thumb over the inside of her palm and said, “You won’t lose me, Betty.  I promise.”

            Betty took a deep breath.  “I still need time.”

            “Okay.”

            “I don’t know how much,” she warned him.  “But, I need time to think this through.”

            Jughead was relieved that there was something to think through in the first place. 

            “We should head back inside,” Betty said.

            Jughead nodded, “Yeah, you’re probably right.  Come on.”

            He opened the door and she slipped in past him.  They reclaimed their seats in the back, the people around them casting curious glances their way as they settled into their seats.  They seemed to sit closer than before, and Jughead tried not to read into it.  Betty fidgeted next to him – crossing and uncrossing her legs; picking at her nails; pulling non-existent lint off of her cardigan.  Around the fourth story, she suddenly grew still.  He looked over at her, and she appeared to be in deep thought.

            “Betty?”

            She didn’t respond, but a few moments later she reached over and slipped one of her hands into his, threading their fingers together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts!


	7. Chapter 7

 Chapter Seven

            Jughead didn’t quite know how it happened, but somewhere between all the scheming and coffee cups, he and Veronica became actual friends.  That was the only logical explanation for how she convinced him to help her shop for a new laptop on the Saturday morning after his professor’s reading.  He met her at the Apple store near Times Square, arriving a few minutes late after being held up by a Women’s Rights march.

            “Well, you are technically the patriarchy,” Veronica pointed out after he told her why he was late.

            “I resent that.”

            “Blame your y chromosome.”

            After several minutes in the store it became readily apparent that Veronica knew nothing about computers, and as such, had no idea what she was looking for.

            “Didn’t it occur to you to do some research before you came here and dropped, what, a thousand dollars on a laptop?”

            Veronica shrugged.  “No. That’s why I brought you.”

            “And here I thought it was for my wit.”

            “I must admit that I have a bit of an ulterior motive, as well,” Veronica added, looking at a rose gold MacBook. 

            Jughead grimaced. “Of course you do.  What is it?”

            “Betty’s being annoyingly coy about that reading you guys went to but I can tell that something happened.  So, after my original source failed spectacularly I am going to the other source.  I.e. you.”

            “I’m not telling you anything,” Jughead said. 

            “Juggie, don’t be ridiculous,” Veronica said.  “I can help you.”

            “We don’t need help.”

            “Aha!”  Veronica said, slapping his arm.  “You said we.  That proves that something happened between you and Betty.  Tell me everything.”

            “Who knew a collective pronoun had so much hidden meaning?”  Jughead returned glibly, unfazed by her overtures.

            “You can avoid all you want, but I know something happened,” Veronica said.  “It was good, right?  I know you two are still talking, so it couldn’t have been bad.”

            “Nothing bad happened,” he clarified.  In fact, something very good happened.  They didn’t go any farther than the hand holding, but the very act itself was an affirmation of what he’d been feeling for weeks.    “But anything else that may or may not have happened is between Betty and me.”

            “But nothing’s happening _now_ ,” Veronica said.  “She would tell me if it was.  So, tell me, what kind of weird deal did you guys make and how can I fix it?”

            “Take those little scheming gloves off.  There is nothing to fix.”

            Veronica frowned and told him, “You both are annoying me now.”

            “Let’s get back to the reason we’re here, okay?  Let’s find you a laptop.”

            “I’m sick of being here,” Veronica said unhappily.  She snapped her finger toward the salesperson and said, “I’ll take this MacBook.  You can put it under Lodge.”

            Jughead looked at her strangely.  “You have a personal account at Apple?”

            “Yeah, my dad’s a major investor,” Veronica said off-handedly.

            “Of course he is.”

            A few minutes later the salesperson returned with her bag and Veronica said, “Come on, Juggie, I’ll let you buy me lunch.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Jughead met up with Betty later that day in Central Park and they strolled through the winding pathways, the afternoon sun warming their faces and turning the tops of Betty’s shoulders pink.   The pair walked close, his hand finding her lower back as they darted past crowds.  They stopped in front of a street performer and Betty linked her arm with his, leaning against him.

Jughead tried not to read into the fact that she didn’t tell Veronica about them.  He understood the impulse to keep it between themselves.  Other people brought their own opinions and expectations, particularly Veronica, who put so much effort into their relationship that she almost seemed like an unnamed third party.  Besides, why did it matter when she was pressed against his side?  He didn’t need the entire world to know as long as they did.  Still, though, her hesitance gave him reservation.

“I think I’m going to quit NYU and become a street performer,” Jughead said, walking with Betty farther into the park.  They passed a group of school children getting their portrait taken by a caricature artist.   The children saw the finished product and squealed with laughter.

“You don’t play any instruments,” Betty pointed out.

“I can learn one,” he returned easily.  “Or I’ll play the spoons or something.”

Betty laughed.  “The spoons?”

“It’s an underrated instrument, Betty.”

“Is it?”

Jughead wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she reached up and took his hand in hers, threading their fingers together.   He took perhaps too much comfort in the physicality of the moment, thinking that as long as his skin touched hers he could somehow keep her from running away.   Betty was uncharacteristically quiet, and Jughead asked, “What are you thinking about?”

 “Nothing much,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I’m glad we were able to do this.”

“Me too.”

“How did Veronica’s laptop shopping go this morning?”  Betty asked.  “I’m sorry again that she dragged you out there with her.”

“It’s fine.  I actually don’t mind her.”

“High compliment from you,” Betty said lightly.

“She was asking about Thursday,” Jughead said casually, curious to see how she reacted.  “Apparently you’re being cagey.”

“Did you tell her anything?”  Betty asked.

“No, I know you don’t want to make this a big thing,” he said.  He hesitated for a moment before adding, “I was sort of surprised you didn’t want to tell Veronica, though.”

“I know,” Betty said. “I just don’t want other people getting involved with it right now.  I like what we have.”

Jughead nodded.  “Yeah, okay.”

He knew that Betty was nervous about going forward with their relationship, but the more she justified their decision (really, _her_ decision) to keep their relationship quiet for the time being, he found himself questioning that decision.  On a base level, he understood it because he understood her, and he couldn’t judge her for it.  Everyone had their concerns, hers just happened to directly involve him.  Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if her reservations went deeper than she let on.

Betty looked up at him and asked, “You’re not upset, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” he told her.  And that was the truth.  He wasn’t upset.  He was scared.

“We will tell Veronica – everyone – eventually,” Betty said reasonably.  “But for now I just want it to be me and you.  We don’t need anyone else.”

He nodded.  “Okay, but…” he trailed off, not sure if he wanted to go where that sentence was heading. 

Betty looked up at him with concern and asked, “What?”

“Nothing,” Jughead said quickly.

“No, you were going to say something.  Tell me, Jug.  Please.”

Jughead bit the inside of his cheek worriedly before telling her, “I just…you’re not changing your mind, are you?  About us?”

“No!  Jug – “ she pulled them to a stop and reached up to frame his face with her hands.  He took some solace in the worry clearly etched on her face. “I am not changing my mind.  I want this.”

“Because if you change your mind –“

“Jug,” she interrupted, tugging his face down and kissing him.  She pressed his forehead against hers and murmured, “I am not changing my mind.  I promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

Betty stood with Jughead in the middle of Central Park, forehead pressed against his and feeling like an absolute bitch.  Jughead didn’t seem convinced by her overtures that she wanted him, and she knew it was her fault.  If she were a bigger person she would take her phone out right there and call Veronica.  She’d give him the same sense of security that he gave to her so willingly. But, setting the parameters of their relationship was the last bit of control that she had left, and she couldn’t bring herself to give it up yet.  It was stupid and very possibly self-destructive, but it was where she was and she couldn’t see any other way.  

“Buy you a pretzel?”  Betty offered half-heartedly, knowing it was a poor and salty substitute for what he really wanted.

“Yeah sure.”

She slipped her arms around his waist as they walked and asked herself for at least the twentieth time why she wasn’t able to just _be_ with him.  He had been there for her in ways that other people in her life never had.  He saw past her perky exterior and somehow brought out truths that she hadn’t even admitted to herself.  If she could really let go with anyone, it was him.  And she wanted to let go.  She wanted to hand him her heart and say, _I trust you_ , because she did.  She trusted him maybe more than anyone else in her life, but just the thought of losing that last bit of control made her palms curl and nails dig.  The truth was, actually being with him terrified her and she didn't quite know how to tell him that.

They stopped at the pretzel stand and she looked up at him, sharing a smile that she hoped told him everything that she couldn’t herself.  He smiled back, dropping a kiss on the top of her head, and the knots in her stomach loosened slightly.  He didn’t let her pay for the pretzels, swatting her hand away when she tried to hand over money, and she told herself that things were fine.  They were fine.  They ate their pretzels in content silence, hands clasped between them, but then Betty spotted Veronica a few paces away and she pulled her hand from his.

“Hey guys,” Veronica said, eyes darting between the pair with naked interest.  Her gaze settled on Jughead and she said, “You didn’t tell me you and Betty had plans this afternoon.”

“It was last minute,” Jughead returned easily.

“Look at you guys with your matching pretzels,” Veronica said.  “How cute.”

“Pretzels are the food of the people,” Jughead said.  “And what are Betty and me, if not model people.”

“That you are,” Veronica said.  “Anyway, I won’t interrupt your little…well…whatever this is.  B, I’ll see you tonight for dinner?”

Betty nodded.  “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Veronica tossed toward Jughead, “We’re having a girl’s night.  Drinks and dinner.”  Veronica raised her eyebrows and added, “Who knows, maybe we’ll finally find Betty a man.”

“Anyway, I’ll see you tonight,” Betty said loudly, wanting Veronica to be anywhere but here.  “Bye, Ronnie.”

“Bye, Betty.”

Veronica flounced away to presumably go meddle with other people’s lives and Betty turned to Jughead and told him, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I know Veronica, remember?  She’s just baiting me.  Little does she know, I am un-baitable.”

Betty smirked.  “You’re un-baitable?”

Jughead made sure that Veronica was out of eyesight before throwing an arm around Betty’s shoulders.  “I know that I have you.  That’s enough.”

 

* * *

 

 

            That night, Betty went out with Veronica and sat through an entire night of Veronica trying to throw her at available men.  She knew what Veronica was trying to do.  She wanted Betty to call her bluff and finally admit that she was, in fact, seeing someone, making the conveyor belt of men highly inappropriate.  Betty fielded the advances without having to divulge much information at first, but then Veronica landed on a particularly persistent male who read her disinterest as a challenge.  Even Veronica, intent on her plan to work, had enough and told him, “Your knock-off Armani suit and Axe body spray isn’t working.  Move on.”

            The guy seemed to consider arguing with Veronica, but the look that she gave him in return squelched any such idea and he left the pair, muttering the opposite of pleasantries under his breath as he left.

            “He was awful,” Veronica said, shaking her head in disbelief.  “I’m sorry that my aim was so off with him.  Maybe the next one will be better.  Oh!  Someone in a crewneck sweater just walked in.  Definitely your type.  I’ll get him over here.”

            Veronica hopped off her seat, but Betty took a hold of her arm and said, “V, hold on.”

             “What is it?”

            “No more men.  Please.”

            “Why not?”  Veronica asked.  “I said I”d help you meet someone tonight." Veronica paused before knowingly adding,  "Unless, of course, you’ve already met someone.”

            Betty was quiet and Veronica sat down next to her again.  She paused for a moment before saying, “I know it’s scary to take a risk with someone, but sometimes that risk is worth it.  Don’t deny yourself that, or _lose_ that, just because you’re scared.  We’re all scared, B.  But that’s why we have each other.  To make us a little less scared.  And if you just… _let_ yourself take that chance, I think you’d actually find it’s not that scary, after all.”

            “I’m not saying there is anyone,” Betty began slowly, “But if there is, what if it doesn’t work?  What if we totally and completely implode and we ruined something good?”

            “That would suck,” Veronica admitted.  “But, you don’t know that will happen.  Hypothetically speaking, you and this other person, you have a blank slate.  Don’t write an ending that isn’t there.”

            Betty took a deep breath, hand curling tightly around her drink, and softly said, “It’s Jughead.”

            Veronica smirked.  “I know.  You two were strolling through Central Park and Jughead doesn’t really strike me as the platonic strolling type.”

            Betty laughed a bit and told her, “He agreed to keep it between us for a bit.”

            “I figured as much,” Veronica said.  She reached forward and laid her hand over Betty’s.  “What you are feeling right now is totally normal, but you can’t let it keep you from living your life.”

            Betty nodded and finished her drink with a large gulp.  She put the glass down on the bar counter and told Veronica, “I need to go see him.”

            Veronica smiled wide.  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Jughead was just finishing up a game of Mario Kart when there was a knock on his door.  He paused the game and checked his watch.  10:30.   Who would be seeing him this late?  He walked over to the door and opened it, surprised to see Betty standing in the doorway.  Before he could say anything, she stepped forward and kissed him, arms winding around his neck.  Jughead didn’t quite know what was happening, but his instincts took over as he kissed her back, hands palming her waist.  She pulled back after a few seconds and smiled nervously up at him.

            “Hi,” she murmured.

            “Hi,” he returned, attention diverted by the brunette female a few feet behind Betty.  “Veronica?”

            “Hello, Juggie.  Well done there, by the way.  Your technique looks spectacular.”

            Jughead blushed for perhaps the first time in his life and Betty laughed next to him as she chided her roommate with a half-hearted, “Veronica!”

            “What?  It was a compliment.”

            “So, Veronica and I were thinking of hitting a karaoke place not too far from here,” Betty told Jughead, rocking a bit on her heels.  Jughead took a hold of her hands and she stilled.  “Do you want to come with?”

            He squeezed her hands.  “Karaoke?  Really?”

            “It was Veronica’s idea,” Betty told him.

            “Why am I not surprised?” he deadpanned.

            “I love karaoke,” Veronica interjected.  “An entire stage to myself with a rapt audience?  What is there not to love?”

            “Let me guess, you sing some Spice Girls or something?”

            Veronica tossed away his suggestion with a flit of her hand.  “Absolutely not.  When I am up there, it is a show stopper.  And the only true show stopper for karaoke is _Bohemian Rhapsody_.”

            Jughead gaped at her.  “Are you serious?”

            “She’s actually pretty good at it,” Betty said.

            “It’s a six minute song.”

            “Are you coming with or not?”  Veronica asked impatiently.  “My audience awaits.”  

Jughead looked over at Betty, whose gaze was squarely on him.  He held her gaze, mouth turning up into a slight grin and watched her cheeks turn pink.  The fact that he could do that to her would never grow old.  He stuffed his hands into his pockets and said, “Yeah, I’ll come with.”


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Spring break came along and Veronica went home to see her family.  Betty decided to take some time off from her parents, and while Veronica offered numerous times to take her out to the Hamptons (the Lodges vacationed in style), Betty didn’t want to intrude.  Besides, she thought it would be nice to have some time alone.  She could see the campus more and explore the library without the distraction of other students.  Her first day, Betty did just that.  She started at the library, taking full advantage of empty aisles to fully peruse each shelving of books until she collected a good three or four to last her for the week.  After the library, she bought herself a coffee at her favorite coffee kart and settled down at a bench in the secluded part of campus that was usually taken.  Betty took out her first book and settled in for a quiet afternoon of reading.  The day went perfectly, but then evening rolled around and the blue sky turned sherbet with the setting sun and then dark.   Betty had never been in the apartment completely alone for an entire night before.  When Veronica was out on her dates, she always knew that she’d be coming back.  Oftentimes it wasn’t for a few hours, but she knew at some point in the night Veronica would be one room over from her, usually swearing as she tripped in her heels.  Her slight roommate wouldn’t be much help in the event of an emergency, but Betty took a surprising amount of comfort in her simply being there.  With that no longer being the case, Betty found herself anxious.  She stared into the darkness for over an hour, jumping at every little sound, before she finally picked up her phone and called Jughead.

            “Betty?  What’s wrong?”

            “I-I’m pretty sure some creature is trying to break into my apartment,” she said, swallowing hard as she heard a loud gust of wind smack against her window.  “It might be a raccoon or something.  Or a serial killer.  I don’t know.”

            “You think it’s a raccoon _or_ a serial killer?  There’s a pretty large difference between those two.”

            “Jug, I need you to come over here.  I’m freaking out.”

            “Betts, it’s the middle of the night,” Jughead said, yawning wide.  “Can’t you just slip a note to your serial killer and tell him that you need some sleep?”

            Betty gripped the phone tightly and said, “Joke all you want, but when you come here tomorrow and find my murdered corpse, I’m going to get the last laugh.  Well, not really because I’m dead.  But you know what I mean!”

            “You’re very dramatic in the middle of the night.”

            “Jug-“

            “Relax, I’m coming over,” he said.  She listened carefully and could hear rustling on the other side of the phone, like he was getting ready.  Good.

            “Thank you, Jughead.”

            “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.  Try not to get murdered by then, okay?”

            She nodded and told him, “I’ll do my best.”

            Twenty-two minutes later there was a knock on the door and Betty tentatively walked forward and peeked through the hole in her door.  Jughead stood on the other side, looking tired and mildly annoyed.  She opened the door and pulled him into her apartment.

            “Thank you so much for coming,” she said.

            “It was no problem.  I only had to fight off your serial killer and raccoon.  It was touch and go for a while, but I survived.”

            “You’re mocking me,” she said.

            “Yes, I am.”

            “I’m really sorry, Jug.”

            His face softened and he reached forward and tugged her against him.  She fit her head comfortably against his chest and he murmured, “I’m glad that I’m the person you call when you think there’s a serial killer/raccoon at your door.  But, you know, if you _actually_ thought there was a serial killer there you probably should call the police.  They have more expertise in that area than me.”

            Betty laughed.  “I just freaked out with Veronica not being here.  I didn’t realize it, but I’ve never really been on my own before.”

            “Really?”

            She nodded against him.  “I was always with my parents before and then Veronica.  It’s never been just me.  I’ve decided I don’t like it.”

            Jughead chuckled.  “You don’t?”

            “I think I might head back home for the rest of the week.  I probably should see my parents.  That makes sense, right?”

            Jughead cleared his throat – a bit loudly for the small room – and said in a strange voice, “Well, um, if you wanted you could stay with me this week.”

            Betty looked up at him.  “With you?  Like, at your apartment?”

            He nodded.  His cheeks were stained pink and he she knew that he was nervous about her response.

            “I’ve never been to your apartment before.”

            “I know.”

            Betty considered it for a moment and said, “I’d like that, Jug.  But maybe for tonight you just stay here with me?”

            Jughead nodded.  “Okay.  I can do that.”  He rubbed the back of his neck and said, “I can sleep on the couch if you want.  I don’t know if –“

            “Jug,” she interrupted.  “Let’s go to bed.”

            “Okay.  Let’s go to bed.”

            He followed her into her bedroom, previously uncharted area, and took in his surroundings as she pulled the blanket forward on her bed.  Her bedroom was unapologetically her.  Pastel colors and framed paintings.  He studied one and she said, “It’s Degas.  Well, not an actual Degas.  A reproduction.  I always loved his dancers series.  They all look so graceful.”

            “I like them, too,” he said, glancing back to see that she was already in bed.  She held out her hand and he took it, settling next to her.  The bed wasn’t particularly large, and it felt like every bit of her was pressed against him beneath the covers.  Her back faced him, but after she turned out the light on her nightstand, she turned toward him and hesitated for only a moment before pressing her lips against his.  He smiled against her mouth and asked, “Is this the real reason you brought me over here?”

            “No,” she said, laughing.  “It’s a thank-you for coming out all this way.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            She was still turned toward him, green eyes somewhat visible in the darkness, and he watched those eyes scan his face before she leaned in and covered his mouth with hers again.  The kiss was more insistent this time around, her tongue feathering his bottom lip.  One hand pressed against his collarbone for leverage.  He kissed her back, sliding his hand along the curve of her waist and brushing his fingertips experimentally against the bit of skin exposed between her shirt and shorts.  They’d kissed before, but not like this, and he found the entire experience overwhelming.  Her scent was all around him and she slipped her hands under his shirt, fingers rasping against his skin.  He nudged her back so that she was flat against the bed and kissed his way down to her neck, sucking and biting gently at her skin.  Betty arched her back, pressing her hand against the back of his neck to keep him in place.  She was short of breath, her entire body on fire as he worked her neck, hands kneading the skin at her waist and edging south.  Betty squeezed her eyes shut, knowing what came next – _wanting_ it – but afraid that it was happening too fast.  She reached down and grabbed his hand.

            “Wait.”  He didn’t hear her and she pulled away.  “Jug, stop.”

            He came to his senses, no doubt blood returning to other parts of his anatomy, and immediately went, “Shit, are you okay?  I didn’t mean to take things too fast.  I –“

            “You didn’t take things too fast,” she said reassuringly, kissing him lightly.  She considered it again and said, “Well, I guess we both did a little.  And I want you to know that all of that stuff – I want it.  Believe me, I want it.  But I think we should take things slower.  You mean a lot to me and I don’t want to rush things.”

            Jughead nodded, brushing his hair out of his eyes.  “Okay.  I can do that.”

            “I’m sorry,” Betty said, chewing the inside of her cheek.

            “I thought we talked about your apologizing,” he said with a slight grin.  “You did nothing wrong, Betty.  We can take this as slow or fast as you want.  I’m just happy to be part of the ride.”

            Betty frowned and said, “It’s sort of sad sounding when you put it that way.”

            “What can I say.  I’m a simple man.”

            They settled back in bed, Jughead draping his arm hesitantly around her waist until she took a hold of his arm and held it against her.  She looked back at him and teased, “Now, behave back there.”

            “Hey, you’re the one who jumped me.”

            “Yes,” Betty agreed, cheeks flushing.  “I guess I did, didn’t I?”

            Jughead chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.  “There were no complaints from me.”

 

* * *

 

 

            The next morning the pair shared a quick breakfast before heading out for a day in the city.  They hit up the local museums, finding some real Degas pieces to ogle, and then took what was becoming a routine stroll through Central Park.  If someone a year ago would have told Jughead that he’d be going around New York like a tourist, he would have made some smart retort and crass hand gesture, but Betty had brought a lot of the unexpected into his life.  He never expected to meet someone like her and actually have her choose to be in his life.  Jughead wasn’t particularly insecure, but he knew that the Betty’s of the world ended up with people like his friend Archie, but somehow she chose _him_.  

            He didn’t know why it took him so long to bring her to his apartment.  Perhaps it was because it meant truly letting her into his life, which as someone who preferred going it alone he found particularly daunting.  Or because he always needed to snake the drain in the bathroom.  Either way, she was there now and the sight of her sitting on his couch, leafing through one of his scrapbooks of photography, both delighted and terrified him.  She seemed somewhat out of place in her bright pink sweater.  His apartment was all shades of black and grey.  Even most of the photographs framed on his wall were black and white. 

            (A week later, she brings him bright red poppies.)

            “Tell me about this one,” Betty said, pointing at a photograph of a young girl perched on a yellow bicycle with pink tassles.  She’s mid-laugh, legs stretched out on either side of the bicycle as she careened down a hill.  The world seemed impossibly bright around her, grass green and sky blue.  She pictured Jughead behind the camera, a stark and monochromatic contrast.

            “This is my sister, Jelly Bean,” Jughead said.  “She goes by JB now.  Apparently being named after a candy isn’t a big selling point in high school.”

            “I’d imagine not.”

            “Anyway, I think she’s eight in this?  Maybe nine?  I still remember when she got that bike.  My dad got it for her during one of his uncharacteristic good parenting moments.”  Betty took Jughead’s hand in hers and squeezed it gently.  “She loved that bike.  Rode it practically everywhere.”

            “I had a bike like that, too.  Except mind was pink.”

            Jughead smirked.  “Why am I not surprised?”

            “It was a great bike.”

            “You’d like Jelly Bean,” Jughead said off-handedly.  “She’s pretty cool.  Much cooler than me.”

            “Cooler than you?  Now that’s impossible.”

            “I spend all day writing in a coffee shop,” Jughead reminded her.  “It doesn’t take much to be cooler than me.”

            Betty kissed him softly.  “Well, I happen to think you’re very cool.”

            Jughead shook his head with a slight smile and she asked, “What?”

            “Nothing.”

            “No, tell me,” she pressed.  “What is it?”

            “I just – sometimes I can’t quite believe that this – “ he gestured between them, “ – is happening.  It feels a bit surreal.”

            “ _You_ feel that way?  Why?”

            Jughead stared at her.  “Betts, have you looked in a mirror?”

            Betty grasped his hands in hers and told him, “Jug, you are kind.  You are caring.  You are surprisingly good at locating ice cream karts in Central Park.  If anything, I’m the lucky one.”

            Jughead smiled slightly and said, “We’re in danger right now of devolving into some sort of compliment-off, aren’t we?”

            Betty laughed.  “I think we might be.”

            He pulled her towards him and he kissed the top of her head.   “Lucky or not, I’m really glad that you’re here, Betts.”

            Betty burrowed closer to him and murmured, “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Four days later Veronica is back from the Hamptons and her and Betty are sitting on the couch for a night of television.  Veronica goes through their DVR and said, “Hardly anything has been watched from last week.  Betty Cooper, where were you?”

            Betty grinned.  “I stayed with Jughead.”

            Veronica’s eyes widened with glee.  “Your first sleepover.  How’d it go?”

            “Well, actually the first sleepover was here,” Betty said.

            “You used my room, didn’t you?  Naughty.  But I approve.”

            “We did not use your room,” Betty said, rolling her eyes. “And nothing happened.  We decided to take things slow.”

            “Take things slow?  Why the hell would you do that?”

            “He means a lot to me, V.  I don’t want to mess things up by doing anything too soon or too fast.  We have time.”

            “What if you don’t, though?  What if you die tomorrow, never knowing what Jughead Jones’ john looks like?”

             “Veronica!”  Betty gasped, dissolving into laughter.

            “It’s a fair consideration,” Veronica said with a devilish grin. 

            “No, it’s not,” Betty said, once she regained some composure.  “And we’re both good with taking our time.”

            “Well, I’m not happy for you in that respect, but seeing his place is a big step.  Did he clean for you?”

            “I don’t think so.  It was pretty short notice.”

            “That’s a good sign,” Veronica said.  “It means his apartment is typically guest-ready.  A rare quality in most men.”

            “Jughead isn’t like most men.”

            Veronica rested her head on the couch and said, “Look at you.  You are so smitten that it is almost painful to watch.”

            “Aren’t you the one who worked so hard to get us together?”

            “Yes,” Veronica sighed.  “And I don’t regret it for a moment.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know your thoughts on this one! Reviews are love :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work is going to be hell this next week and then I have a wedding. So, this will be the last update for a bit. Hope you enjoy!

 Chapter Nine

             It was three months since Betty showed up outside of Jughead’s apartment with Veronica, effectively putting a start date on their relationship, and Betty didn’t think that there was much of a perceptible change between them.  They weren’t big on public displays of affection at the coffee shop and he still came every afternoon like he always did, sitting at his corner table and typing away.  Bianca had been out of work for some time traveling all across Europe with some man she met on the subway.  It was a proper New York love story, which naturally made Bianca hate it. 

            “Please stop calling it that,” she had griped.

            ‘But it _is_ a classic New York love story.  Meeting on the subway and falling in love?  It’s so romantic.”

            “I’m going to go clean the bathroom.”

Betty hadn’t directly told her that she and Jughead were dating, thinking that she’d figure it out on her own eventually.  Bianca wasn't particularly perceptive, but commented on it one afternoon after Jughead came in for a coffee.  Him and Betty talked minimally at the counter, but she kept catching him looking at her from behind his laptop.  After one particular catch, he raised his coffee mug in a sort of salute and she laughed.

            “You guys are getting weirder.” 

            “No we’re not.”

            “He saluted you with his coffee,” Bianca said pointedly.  “Oh God, you guys hooked up, didn’t you?”  Bianca said, eyes wide.  She looked mortified, which Betty didn’t think was quite fair.  “You’re going to ruin him.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”  Betty asked, more than a little offended. 

            “You’re going to make him… _perky_ ,” Bianca said, face scrunching up at the last word.  

            “What’s wrong with perky?”

            Bianca reached up and tucked her pen into the bun wound on the top of her head.  “The fact that you even have to ask is half the problem, Cooper.”

“There is nothing wrong with perky,” Betty said definitively.  “And Jughead and I did not hook up.  We’re actually dating.”

“You are?”

Betty nodded happily.  “About three months now.”

            “If you make him perky I may not be able to forgive you.”  Bianca said.  She wistfully added, “I always liked the way he seems to greet everyone with mild hostility.”

            “I’ll be sure to tell him that.  I’m going on my break.”

            Betty walked over to Jughead’s table and sat across from him.  He gave her a wry grin and said, “Hey, Betts.”

            “Bianca thinks I’m going to ruin you.”

            Jughead looked at her with confusion.  “She what?”

            “She thinks I’m going to make you perky and ruin you.”

            “Okay, I’m really lost right now so can you give me some context?”

            “She noticed that something is different between us, and I told her that we’re dating and she thinks I’m going to ruin you.”

            “Okay, stop saying that you’re going to ruin me,” Jughead said.  “It’s starting to freak me out.”

            “I don’t think I could make you perky, anyway,” she said off-handedly, reaching forward and brushing away an eyelash on his cheek.  “It’s not in your DNA.”

            “How dare you,” he returned lightly.  “I can be perky.”

            “Oh really?”

            His eyes danced as he said, “Want me to go up there and drop some perk on her?”

            Betty laughed.  “As much as that would entertain me, I think it might give her a heart attack.”

            “Fair point.  What are you doing tonight?  Archie has another show at The Aragon tonight.  I thought we could go.”

            “That sounds like fun.  It’s a plan.  Would Archie care if I brought Veronica along?  She just ended things with the guy she was seeing for a few weeks and I think she could use a night out.”

            “I don’t think he’ll care,” Jughead said.  “Bring her along.”

            Betty caught a short man with a growing bald spot walk in and said, “Oh no, I need to get back behind the counter.  Our boss is here.”

            “I thought you were on your break?”

            “Yeah, we’re actually not supposed to take them during the lunchtime rush.  Bianca was just annoying me.”

            “Get back behind that counter.  I don’t want to lose my access to the day-old pastries.”

            “Charming,” she deadpanned.  “What time is Archie’s show tonight?”

            “Eight,” she said. “I’ll come pick you up.”

            “Perfect.  I’ll see you then.”

            Betty scurried back to the counter, wincing slightly as her boss said, “Elizabeth, I thought I was clear about there being no breaks during the lunch hour.”

            “Sorry Frank,” Betty said quickly.  “I just had to ask him something.  He, uh, had a coffee issue.  So, I sorted it out and then came right on back here.”

            Frank narrowed his eyes.  “A coffee issue?  What type of coffee issue?  We pride ourselves on top rate coffee here.  I need to be aware of all customer complaints.”

            “Oh, um, nothing too serious.  His coffee was a bit cold,” Betty stammered.

            “His coffee was cold?  Why did that happen?”  He turned toward Bianca and asked, “Are we not re-brewing every thirty minutes like company policy?”

            “Maybe he was too distracted to drink his coffee before it got cold,” Bianca said. 

            “Too distracted?  What –“

            “Oh look, more customers!”  Betty interrupted.  “I better get back to the registers.”

            Betty hurried over to the register, relieved to no longer be a part of the conversation at hand.  There was, in fact, only one customer in line.  It was an older woman – maybe fifty or so – with black hair cropped close to her head.  There was something familiar about her, but Betty couldn’t place where she knew her.

            “I’ll have a small coffee,” the woman said.

            “Would you like room for cream?”  Betty asked.

            She shook her head.  “Nope.  I’ll take it black.”

            “Okay,” Betty said, putting her order into the register.

            “This is a nice place,” the woman noted.  “Have you worked here long?”

            “About six months,” Betty said.  “I’m a student over at Barnard, and I started here at the same time.”

            “You must be busy.”

            “It’s definitely taught me to be efficient,” Betty said.  Bianca just prepared a fresh pot of coffee (before Frank joined them and started his lecture) and Betty turned around and poured a cup for the customer.  She exchanged the cup for a five dollar bill.

            “Well, best of luck to you at Barnard.  You can keep the change.”

            “Oh, thank you.  Have a nice day.”

            Betty watched the woman walk among the tables, her interest piquing when she headed over to Jughead’s table.  The woman seemed hesitant, hanging back for a moment before stepping forward and maneuvering herself so that she was standing in front of him.  Jughead’s shoulders tightened immediately.  Suddenly, Betty knew why the woman looked so familiar.

 

* * *

 

            “Mom,” Jughead stammered.  “What are you doing here?”

            “Do you mind if I join you?”  Gladys Jones asked, gesturing toward the empty chair across from him.

            He didn’t respond and Gladys settled across from him, having the decency to look as uncomfortable as he felt.  She crossed and uncrossed her legs several times before halting her fidgeting, her hands wrapping tightly around her coffee mug.

            “You look so grown up,” she murmured.  “You’re an adult now.”

            “I was one a long time ago,” he said in a sharp tone.

            “I know,” she returned sadly.  “Jughead-“

            “How did you even find me here?”

            “Your sister,” Gladys said.  “We’ve had a few emails here and here.  I asked for your address and she wouldn’t give it to me.”  Gladys smiled slightly.  “She’s very loyal to you, Jughead.  It made me proud.  But, anyway, she gave me the name of this place.  Told me that it was up to you if you wanted to give me more.”

            “Why the sudden interest?” Jughead asked guardedly.  “Run out of money again?”

            “No.”

            “Or let me guess, whoever was keeping you in Vegas made a run for it so you thought you’d find me and slum it for a bit?”

            “I’m sorry,” Gladys said, voice thick.  “I messed up.  I know that, Jug.  I messed up really bad, but I’m still your mother.”

            “That doesn’t mean anything,” he said coldly.  “It’s just a word.”

            “I know that I wasn’t here for you before, but I am now.  I’m here now, Jug, and…can’t we just put the past behind us?”

            “Are you serious right now?”

            “Sweetheart, I know I made mistakes-“

            “Mistakes?  You made _mistakes_?”

            “Jughead-“

            “When I was thirteen I was putting dinner on the table for my seven-year-old sister because you were out with your latest boyfriend.  When I was sixteen, I was putting you to bed when you came home hammered and high off of God knows what.  A mistake is accidentally forgetting to pick your kid up from school.  What you did weren’t mistakes.”

            “What can I do to make it up to you?”  she pleaded.  “Tell me.  Whatever it is, I’ll do it.  Please.”

            “Leave,” he said in a low voice.  “And stay the hell away from me and Jellybean.”

            Gladys looked on the verge of tears, but she held herself together. 

            “If that’s what you really want –“

            “It is,” he said.

            Gladys reached into her purse and pulled out a pen.  She took a napkin from the holder on the table and quickly wrote down a string of numbers.  She pushed the napkin toward her son.

            “I know you hate me, but if you change your mind this is my cell phone.  Even if you don’t change your mind.  It’d be nice to hear your voice.”

            Without another word, she stood up and walked out of the coffee shop.  Jughead picked up the napkin and rolled it into a ball before dropping it in his mother’s unfinished coffee.   

* * *

 

            Later that night, Jughead, Betty and Veronica sat in the crowded bar waiting for Archie’s set to begin.  Veronica went up to the bar to get a drink and Betty gently asked him, “Earlier in the coffee shop, who was that woman who sat with you?”

            Jughead took a long drag off of his beer.  “No one.”

            “Are you sure?  It looked like someone.”

            “Yeah, I’m sure,” he said.  “It was just some woman.  She thought I was someone else.”

            Betty didn’t want to push him.  His mother was a touchy subject, and she knew that he’d talk to her when he was ready.  Veronica returned with a round of shots and said, “You all are too serious tonight.  So, we are going to do some serious bucking up right now.  No argument, please.”

            “Why are those shots pink?”  Jughead asked.

            “Because they are strawberry shortcake shots,” Veronica explained easily.

            “How the hell did you get them to make strawberry shortcake shots?”

            Veronica raised an eyebrow and said, “I can be very persuasive.”

            Betty reached forward and took a shot for herself.  She grabbed one for Jughead and asked, “Ready for some bucking up, partner?”

            “Always.”

            He took a hold of her hand under the table and she gave it a gentle squeeze.

            “What are we cheering to?”  Veronica asked, giving her shot an experimental sniff.

            “To not letting the past fuck up your present,” Jughead said.

            Betty looked at him strangely while Veronica said, “Oh, I will absolutely cheer to that.”

            They clinked glasses before downing the shots.  Jughead said, “That was better than I expected.”

            “And that should teach you not to judge a shot by its color,” Veronica returned lightly.  “I think the show is starting.  Finally.”

            Archie walked out on stage in a slim fitting grey t-shirt and black jeans.  His guitar was at the ready, tendons in his forearm rippling as he fingered a few notes on the neck. 

            “Hey everyone, I’m Archie Andrews.  Thanks for coming out tonight.  I hope you like what you hear.”

            Veronica leaned into Betty and asked, “Excuse me, but when did Archie get so hot?”

            Betty smirked.

 

* * *

 

 

            The show closed out with Archie’s cover of some Beatles song (the crowd went wild) and the foursome headed out for the night.  Veronica was glued to Archie’s side, using every play in the book and then some.  Archie, like most men held in Veronica’s sight, played right into her game, hand on the small of her back and laughter just a bit too loud.  Betty knew where this was heading, and smartly told Veronica, “I’m going to stay with Jug tonight.”

            Veronica gave her a tight hug and said, “Thanks, B.”

            The couples broke off and Jughead and Betty headed back to his apartment.  He was uncharacteristically quiet, and when she asked him about it he told her that he was just tired.  His classes were busy.  The writing wasn’t coming as easily as it normally did.  She still didn’t push, figuring that he would open up to her when he felt comfortable.  They went straight to bed, Jughead staying squarely on his side of the bed with his back to her, his constant shifting and fidgeting telling her that neither of them were going to get much sleep.  After a while, Betty crossed the invisible line between them and turned toward him, wrapping her arms around him.  She nestled her face against his back and murmured, “That was your mom at the coffee shop, wasn’t it?”

            Jughead was quiet for a moment but then said, “Yeah.”

            “Do you want to talk about it?”

            “Not really.”

            “Because it can help sometimes to talk about it.  Even for a little.”

            “Betty-“

            “I just hate seeing you like this.  I can see that you’re hurting, and when people that I love are –“ Betty stopped herself, suddenly wishing very much that they hadn’t started this conversation.  Jughead turned toward her, eyes wide.

            “Betty, did you just –“

            “I did,” she said, surprise evident in her voice.  She hadn’t really given it much thought before, but there it was.  “Are you freaking out?  You’re freaking out.  I didn’t mean to just spring this on you with all the stuff with your mom.  It honestly just sort of came out.”  He still didn’t say anything and she murmured, “I can take it back?”

            “Don’t you dare,” he said, smiling slightly before covering her mouth with his.  The kiss was languid at first but grew in intensity, their limbs tangled and hands urgent as he pressed her back against the mattress.  His hand went between her legs and she clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder.  When she finished he dropped a kiss to her shoulder and said, “I love you, too.  I think I have since you first gave me that apology muffin.”

            Betty laughed lightly and joked, “I knew it would work.”

            Jughead settled on his back and Betty curled herself around him, fingertips lightly tracing some pattern on his arm.  Her thoughts drifted back to the coffee shop and she said, “You should call your mom.”

            “Is that seriously what you’re thinking about right now?”

            “You’re going to regret it if you don’t,” she told him.  “Even after everything she put you through, she’s still you mom.  I know that doesn’t count for much, but it counts for something.”

            “Even if I wanted to, I have no way of reaching her.  I pretty much destroyed the napkin that she wrote her number on.”

            “Yeah, about that…” Betty began slowly.  “I cleaned off your table and fished the napkin out.  Only the bottom part was in the coffee so I was able to get the number.”

            “Betty-“

            “I thought you might want it someday,” she said.  “Maybe not today or even tomorrow.  But, one day…”

            Jughead pressed a kissed to the side of her head.  “Thank you.”

            “Can you stop moving around so much now?  A girl needs to get her beauty rest.”

 

* * *

 

 

            The next day, several hours after Betty left to go home, Jughead sat on his couch with his phone in his hand.  He stared at it for a good five minutes before unlocking, and then another five minutes before he plugged in the phone number that Betty texted him.  He pressed call and brought the phone to his ear, heart beating feverishly as the phone rang.  She answered after three rings.

            “Hi Mom.”


	10. Chapter 10

Jughead firmly believed that there were certain things he should never have to experience and high up on that list was overhearing his best friend consummate a relationship.  The day started out innocent enough.  Him and Betty went for their usual walk around Central Park, eating ice cream cones until their stomachs ached.  They watched a small jazz troupe nestled in one of the areas of the park with less traffic, and Betty convinced Jughead to dance with her after a promise of more ice cream.  They trudged back to her apartment and went into her room, closing the door behind them and collapsing onto her bed in a jumble of exhausted limbs.

            “I didn’t know it was possible to be this tired,” Betty said, resting her cheek on his chest.  “We didn’t even do that much.”

            “I did squire you around the dance floor,” Jughead said, running his fingertips along her spine. 

            Betty smirked and murmured, “How could I forget about the squiring?”

            “I’m a little offended right now.”

            Betty snuggled closer to him, propping her leg up over his.  She loved quiet moments between them.  It felt like both of them were running around so much, it was nice when they had time to just be together.  No deadlines.  No expectations.

            “I could stay here forever,” Betty said softly. 

            “Really?”  Jughead asked.  “I thought you’d aspire for something bigger than an apartment above a questionable Lithuanian restaurant.”

            Betty hit his side.  “You know what I mean.”

            He kissed the top of her head.  “Yeah, I do.  Although, if we’re going to stay here forever, we may want to invest in better sheets.”

            “What’s wrong with my sheets?”  Betty asked.

            “To be honest, they’re a little scratchy.”

            “I love these sheets.”

            Betty and Jughead heard the front door of the apartment open and the tell-tale clack of Veronica’s heels.  Betty looked up at him and asked, “Should we go say hi?”

            “No, I think we should stay here,” Jughead said, yawning wide.  “Besides, Veronica’s been using me as her personal Nerd Herd lately.  I don’t want to get dragged into fixing her computer again.”

            “Fair point.”

            Outside the door Veronica said something and a male answered.  Jughead sat up a bit and said, “Archie’s here.”

            “Does that mean you’re going out there now?”

            Jughead considered it for a moment and then said, “Nah.  I’m good.  I see him enough as it is.”

            Betty snorted and said, “Your friendship is a thing of beauty.”

            “You’re ignoring your best friend right now,” Jughead pointed out.

            “Yes, but I live with her.  Very different.”

            “How?”

            “It just is,” Betty held.

            “Your lack of explanation really has be doubting your logic and -”  Betty interrupted him with a kiss, her hand tracing the curve of his jaw.  When she pulled away, Jughead blinked slowly and said,“-and I don’t really care anymore.”

            He returned his mouth to hers, fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt as their mouths moved languidly.  They were past the days of frantic make out sessions, their movements rushed, as if they were afraid if they didn’t move fast enough the moment would disappear.  Now they moved slowly but deliberately.  Her hands slipping under his shirt.  His mouth pressed with just enough pressure on her neck to leave a slight mark.  Betty mewled contently, pressing his mouth harder against her neck.  She was met with a similar, albeit louder, noise from outside the door, and the pair froze.

            “Did you just…” Betty began, eyes widening when she heard the same noise, followed by a throaty laugh.  “They’re not…”

            Jughead scrambled off the bed and slowly opened the door just enough to see into the living room.  He quietly closed it again and turned back to Betty who gave him a questioning look.

            “So, our friends appear to be having sex on your couch.”

            “Oh gross,” Betty said, wrapping her arms around herself.  “Out on the couch?  Really?  Do they at least have a towel down or something?”

            “You know, when I saw my best friend without pants on, I pretty much stopped looking.”

            “Do you think they know we’re in here?”  Betty asked.

            “I can’t speak to Veronica’s sexual proclivities, but Archie really isn’t into exhibitionism.  So, I doubt it.”

            “We can’t leave, right?  I mean, we’d have to interrupt them then.  We shouldn’t interrupt them.  What if this is, you know…” 

            “What?”

            “Come on, Jug.  You know.”

            “No, actually.  I don’t.”

            Betty sighed and said, “What if this is _the_ time.”

            “You mean their first time?”  Betty nodded.  “Do you really think they’re consummating their relationship on your couch?”

            “I don’t know,” Betty said defensively.  “Maybe?  Veronica always tells me how she lost her virginity on a trampoline.  So, I don’t think a couch is out of the question.”

            Archie made a noise that was a cross between a moan and a yelp, and Jughead winced.

            “This is something I should never be hearing,” Jughead said.  “I may never recover.”

            “Maybe it’ll be over soon?”  Betty returned hopefully.

            Jughead shook his head, for some reason feeling like he needed to vouch for his best friend’s sexual prowess, and said, “Unfortunately, I think we’ll be here for a while.”

            Betty picked up one of her pillows and walked over to the door and stuffed it against the bottom.  It somewhat muffled the activities outside.

            “So, Veronica really lost her virginity on a trampoline?”  Jughead asked after a moment, watching Betty sit on the edge of her bed.

            Betty smirked.  “From what I know, it was at a musical after party with her high school boyfriend.  They actually broke the trampoline.”

            “I don’t know whether to be impressed or horrified.”

            “Probably a mixture of both.”

            “What about you?”  Jughead asked.

            “What about me?”

            “How did you lose your virginity?” 

            Betty grew silent, suddenly finding the top of her bed spread incredibly interesting.  She picked at a pilled bit of the bedspread, wishing that he would stop looking at her.  He sat down next to her and took one of her hands in his.

            “Betts-“

            “I’m not some freak,” she said softly.  “I’ve dated.  And those guys, you know, they wanted to…”

            “I don’t doubt that,” Jughead said, running his thumb against her hand. 

            “And I did, too,” she said.  “It’s just, I kept waiting for it to be the right person, and none of them were.  So, I didn’t do it.”

            “I understand.”

            “I know it’s weird,” Betty continued.  “I mean, most people by my age-“

            “Hey, you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Jughead interrupted.  “What you do with your body and _when_ you do it is entirely up to you.  And if anyone judges you for that then they’re not worth having in your life.” 

            “You’re not freaked out?”  Betty asked slowly.  Her last boyfriend hadn’t taken the news as calmly, reading some sort of frigidity into her still being a virgin.  Once it became clear that he wouldn’t claim it in the near future, he disappeared.  But Jughead didn’t seem phased by the reveal.  Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth softly against hers.  The kiss was light, nothing more than a quick brush of his lips against hers.  It was the type of kiss that didn’t ask for anything in return.

            “I love you, Betty,” he murmured.  “All of you.  So, no, I’m not freaked out.  Not even close.”

            Betty kissed him quickly, relief flooding her stomach.  She hadn’t exactly kept this information from his intentionally, but she hadn’t been looking forward to the conversation.  Now that it happened, she didn’t know why she waited so long in the first place.

“You’re pretty great, Jug.  Do you know that?”

            “You know, I always had an inkling but it’s nice to actually hear it,” he joked.

            “So, what about you?  How did you lose your virginity?”

            “After prom with my high school girlfriend,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.  “It was pretty cliché.  Local motel room.  Both of us tipsy from cheap whiskey that our friend snuck into the dance.  It lasted all of, I think, thirty seconds.”

            “You’re really selling yourself right now.”

            “I just want you to know what you’re getting,” Jughead returned.  His cheeks turned red when he realized what he said, and he quickly added, “Not that I think you’re – I’m not just assuming that-“

            “Take a breath,"  Betty said with a soft smile.  "I know you didn’t mean anything.” 

            They heard shuffling outside the door, and Veronica and Archie’s voices were associated with words instead of just noises.  The pair exchanged a look and Jughead hopped off the bed and slowly opened the door a crack again.  He turned back with a pump of his first.

            “The maiden voyage has come to a close.”

            “We can never tell them we were here,” Betty said, standing up.  “We’ll just stay hidden until they leave?”

            Jughead nodded, and their plan may have worked if Betty didn’t trip on an errant shoe, yelping as she caught herself on the way down to the floor.  A moment later Veronica’s voice rang out with, “Betty?”

            Betty look at Jughead with wide eyes as he gestured for her to respond.  She winced before grudgingly opening the door and stepping out to an amused Veronica and stricken Archie.  Jughead joined her and Archie said, “Seriously dude?”

            “We heard nothing,” he promised, hands held up in yielding.  “Well, okay, maybe we heard _something._   But, it was really all just nondescript noises.”

            “Betty Cooper, who knew you were such a voyeur,” Veronica said with a Chesire grin.

            “Okay, Jug and I are going to get going,” Betty said, grabbing a hold of Jughead’s hand and dragging him along behind her.  “Congratulations to you two.  We’re just…bye.”

            Betty closed the door behind her and Jughead, who asked, “Did you just congratulate them for having sex?”


	11. Chapter 11

_Fall 2022_

            Betty rushed down the street, throwing a hazardous glance toward the oncoming turning lane as she barreled through a flashing hand signal.  Her phone buzzed in her purse and she pulled it out, clicking into the call as she grasped the handle of the coffee shop door and pulled it open.

            “Betty, did you die?”

            “No, V.  I’m just running a little late.  I’ll be there in five minutes.”  Betty winced when she saw the expanse of people stretched out behind the register.  “Maybe ten.”

            “Well, hurry up.  I need you here.” 

            “I know.  I’ll be there soon.  I’m grabbing coffee, can I get you anything?”

            “I’m beyond coffee unless it has a shot of something in it,” Veronica said in a tight voice. 

            “You know, I don’t think they have that here.”

            “I’m going to hate myself for this later, but can you grab me a lemon poppy seed muffin?”  Betty heard murmuring in the background, and then Veronica boomed, “I will eat a damn muffin if I want to, Mother!”

            “I’ll get you the muffin,” Betty promised with a grin.  “And I’ll ask about the shot.”

            “Fingers crossed.  Okay, I’ll see you soon.  Please hurry.”

            “I will be there as soon as I can.”

            Betty ended the call and slipped her phone back into her pocket.  The line moved at the usual pace, Betty recognizing the same glazed expression on the barista’s face that she wore for her time behind the register.  When it was finally her turn she stepped forward and said, “The morning rush is always the worst.”  The girl looked at her blankly and she said, “I used to work here.”

            “Oh, cool,” she returned blandly.  “Was the pay as shitty when you worked here?”

            Betty blinked rapidly.  “I don’t know if I’m qualified to answer that question.  Anyway, I’ll take a small whole milk latte and one lemon poppyseed muffin.”

            “We’re out of lemon poppyseed muffins.”

            “Of course you are,” Betty said in a low voice.  She perused the counter before landing on a chocolate croissant.  “I’ll take this.”

            The girl typed in her order with the same waning interest with which she took the order and then drolly told her, “Your order comes up to $6.87.”

            Betty handed her card over and checked her phone as she waited for her order to be completed.  She found a message from Jughead waiting for her.  It was a picture of him at an airport, holding a “San Francisco Is For Lovers” t-shirt.  Below the picture he sent:

 

_What are the odds Veronica would let me wear this today?_

            Betty smirked and quickly typed back a response.

 

_Extremely low._

            A few seconds later her phone pinged.

 

_This is proof of the lack of appreciation for airport kitsch merchandise._

_This may be my calling, Betts._

_To elevate the medium._

            Betty shook her head before sending back:

 

_Whatever you say, dear._

            Betty’s order came up and she grabbed the coffee, stashing the croissant in her purse as she made her way out of the coffee shop and hailed a cab.  It was a short ride to the Waldorf Astoria, the doorman giving her a friendly nod as she walked past him.  She quickly checked her phone for Veronica’s room number before taking the elevator up to the eighteenth floor.  She made her way to Room 1822 and knocked on the door.  Veronica answered immediately and grasped Betty’s arm tightly.

            “Today is a disaster.  It is a total and complete disaster.”

            Betty let Veronica pull her into the room as she calmly told her, “I’m sure every bride thinks that on their wedding day and then the wedding turns out beautifully.  You need to relax.”

            “I can’t relax.  I absolutely cannot relax.  This morning, I got a call from Madame Celine that she had an allergic reaction to some stupid aromatherapy oils last night, so they’re sending another harpist for the ceremony.  I’ve never even heard this other person play and you know I am very particular with my harpists.”

            “I do know that,” Betty said slowly.  Although, she didn’t quite understand it.  She’d never heard a harpist and had anything other than generally positive thoughts.

            “Then, I woke up to this –“ Veronica pointed to a non-existent mark on her face, “-and on top of all of that, your stupid husband is still halfway across the country.  Did he have to schedule a work trip so close to the wedding?”

            “If it makes you feel better, he texted me from the airport.”

            “Oh, perfect, so he’s in an _airport_ halfway across the country.  That makes me feel so much better.”

            “He will be here in more than enough time.”  Betty reached in her bag and pulled out the croissant.  “Now, don’t be upset, but they didn’t have the lemon poppyseed muffin.”

            Veronica sighed.  “I should have figured.  Everything else is going to shit.  Archie and I should have eloped like you and Jughead.  Why didn’t you tell me to elope?”

            Betty smiled a bit and said, “Because I knew you’d regret giving up an entire day where you are the center of attention.”

            Veronica considered this for a moment and said, “That is a very good point.”

            Betty braced her hands on her friend’s shoulders and told her, “Today is going to be the best day of your life, V.  You’re marrying your best friend.  That’s the most important thing.”

            Veronica took a deep and shaky breath.  “You’re right.  I know you’re right.  But is it that bad for me to want today to be perfect?”

            “It will be perfect.  You’re marrying the love of your life surrounded by friends and family.  That’s what you’ll remember years from now.  Not the harpist or whatever else you think is going wrong.”

            Veronica pulled Betty into a tight hug.  “See?  This is why I need you here!  You calm me down.”

            “I’m happy to be here.  Where’s your Mom?”

            “I sent her back to her room,” Veronica said. When Betty gave her a look she said, “She was only adding to my stress!  Anyway, the other bridesmaids get here around eleven.  So, for now, it’s just us two.”

            Betty grinned.  “Perfect.”  She ushered Veronica into the room and sat her down on the bed, settling next to her.  “So, are you excited underneath all these nerves?”

            Veronica nodded, looking somewhat like her normal self.  “I am.  I mean, I’m terrified.  The idea of giving yourself to someone completely…it’s not easy for me.  You know that.”

            “I do,” Betty echoed softly.

            “But with him, I’m less scared.  He just makes everything…better.  Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I look over at him and I can’t quite believe it’s happening.  That I ended up with someone like him.  He’s so kind.”

            “He’s lucky to have you.”

            “We’re lucky to have each other,” Veronica said resolutely.  “He’s not exactly what I envisioned for my future, but he’s everything I could ever want.”  They both were quiet for a moment before Veronica asked, “Were you nervous?”

            “On my wedding day?”  Betty asked.  Veronica nodded and she said, “Not really.  There really wasn’t time to get nervous in the five minute cab ride from the hotel to the court house.”

            “I’m still holding a minor grudge that I wasn’t there,” Veronica said with a slight grin.

            “You and Alice Cooper.  It’s been a year and she still brings it up at holiday dinners.”

            Veronica stood up and walked over to the table.  She uncorked a bottle of champagne, the bottle sweating in the under-air-conditioned room -  and poured them each a glass.

            “Oh, none for me,” Betty said immediately.

            “Are you kidding me?  It’s my wedding day, B.  You’re drinking.”  She held the glass out toward Betty, and when she didn’t immediately take it said, “This is a non-negotiable, Betty Jones.”

            Betty gingerly took the champagne flute from Veronica and said, “I think it may be a bit negotiable.  I’m pregnant.”

            Veronica stared at her.  “Shut up.  No, you’re not.”

            “I am,” Betty said.  “I have a screenshot of the pregnancy test to prove it.”

            Veronica’s eyes widened.  “Wait, really?  Let me see!”

            Betty hesitated before pulling her phone out of her purse and swiping through her camera until she found it.  Veronica took the phone from her and grinned wide.  “This is amazing.  B, this is – you’re going to have a baby.  You’re going to be a _mom_.”

            “I know.  It’s still sort of hard to wrap my head around.”

            Veronica tapped on the phone screen and immediately demanded, “Why is this photograph time stamped from two weeks ago?”

            “Um, because that’s when I took the picture?”

            “Betty!  You’ve known for two weeks and you haven’t told me?”

            “I didn’t want to take any attention away from your wedding,” Betty said.  “This is your time.  I’ll have a full nine months for it to be about me.”

            “You are ridiculous,” Veronica said, pulling her into another tight hug.  “I am so happy for you.  I’m going to be an Aunt!  Should you or I tell Polly that I’m going to be the favorite Aunt?”

            Betty laughed.  “That news can probably be delivered at a later date.”

            “So, how excited is Jughead?”

            Betty swallowed hard.  “Well, he actually doesn’t know.”

            “Why not?”

            “He’s been out of town on that assignment in San Francisco since I took the test.  I didn’t want to tell him over text and every time I tried to tell him on the phone, I chickened out.”

            “Why?  This is amazing news.”

            “It isn’t something we really talked about,” Betty said slowly.  “Starting a family.  It’s something we wanted, but more in the general sense.  I know he’ll be happy.”

            “Of course he will.”

            “But, the timing…he’s already booked two out of town jobs in the fall and he was hoping to arrange something with National Geographic in Africa sometime next year.  This isn’t something we planned for.”

            Veronica grasped Betty’s hand tightly.  “You can’t plan for everything.”

            “This you typically can,” Betty said lightly, although the look on her face erased any sort of levity.  “I make pro-con-lists for just about every major decision in my life.  It took me two weeks to decide whether to switch my conditioner.”

            “I like how you consider what conditioner you use as a major life decision.”

            “Starting a family is one of the biggest decisions we will make and the only thought we put into it is that we were out of condoms in the bedside nightstand.”

            “This is good news, Betty,” Veronica said emphatically.  “Don’t let yourself think otherwise.”

            “I just need to see him,” Betty said, fingertips curling up to trace the familiar scars on her palms.  “Things are always better when I see him.”

 

* * *

 

            Several hours later, Veronica’s hotel room was abuzz with activity as everyone dressed for the day’s events.  Betty’s learned that the room was perhaps somewhat minute for the six plus bridal party and the years had not worked to make Betty like Cheryl Blossom. 

            “Maybe I’ll find myself husband number three tonight,” Cheryl cooed, finishing off her flute of champagne.  “Love is in the air, after all.”

            Veronica appeared beside Betty in her dressing robe and said, “Please cut her off.  If anyone is going to be a drunken mess at this wedding, it’s going to be me.”

            “Absolutely.”

            Veronica took a deep breath and said, “Would you be upset if I sent you downstairs to get coffee?  I’d send someone else, but only you know the exact amount of cream I like in my coffee.”

            Betty kissed her cheek.  “I’m your Maid of Honor, V.  I’d be a little offended if you sent someone else to get your coffee.”

            “If you ever get married again, I promise to repay the favor.”

            “You do realize that my sister would probably have to be my Maid of Honor, right?”

            Veronica shrugged and said, “Since you eloped with only a bellhop from your hotel as your witness, I have no actual evidence to prove what you just told me.”

            Betty laughed.  “I’ll be right back.  Have one of the other girls text me their drink orders.”  Betty dropped her voice and whispered, “I swear pregnancy brain has already started.”

            “I will have Midge text you.”

            Betty grabbed her wallet and headed down to the coffee shop in the lobby.  She saw Jughead climbing out of a cab and her heart beat so fervently in her chest that she would not have been surprised if it was audible.  The cab driver popped the trunk open and Jughead pulled out a massive suitcase.  After all his travelling, Jughead had never quite gotten the knack of efficient packing.  He came in through the revolving door, face lighting up when he saw her standing in the lobby.  Betty barely had a moment to catch her breath before his arms were around her, the wheels of his suitcase spinning madly.  She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, taking in his familiar scent.  She never realized just how much she missed him during work trips until he was back, the feel of his body against hers making her wonder how she managed at all without it.

            He pulled back just enough to press a soft kiss on her mouth, taking his time as he brushed his lips against hers.  She felt dazed as an easy grin spread on his face and he murmured, “Hello, Betty.”

            “How was San Francisco?”

            His hands slid around to grasp her waist.  “Cold.  I should have listened to you and packed more sweaters.”

            “You admit that you should have listened to me on something?  Can I get that in writing?  We can frame it and put it up in the bedroom as a reminder.”

            Jughead laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.  “God, I’ve missed you.”

            “I’ve missed you, too.  Hey, do you have a minute to talk?”

            “I wish I did, but Archie has already called me twice, and each phone call he sounds increasingly panicked.  I think I need to report for Best Man duties.”

            Betty nodded.  “Okay.”

            “Is everything okay?” he asked.

            “Yeah, everything’s fine.  You go keep the groom from imploding and I will get the bride her coffee.”

            Betty wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans before turning toward the coffee shop.  She took two steps before Jughead took a hold of her arm and tugged her back toward him.  His arms slid around her waist and he kissed her again, his mouth more insistent this time.  She threaded her fingers in his hair, letting the feel of his mouth against hers work at the knots in her stomach.  He pulled away abruptly and with a rakish grin said, “One kiss wasn’t enough.”

            Betty wiped her mouth dazedly.  “I’d say.”

            “I really do need to go now.”

            She watched him hurry off toward the elevators and then hurried herself over to the coffee shop.  As requested, Midge texted Betty the bridal party’s unnecessarily complicated drink orders.

            “Doesn’t anyone drink regular coffee anymore?”  Betty huffed.

 

* * *

 

 

            In the hours preceding the wedding, Betty played interference between Veronica and Cheryl, while also making sure there was a safe distance between Veronica and her mother.  She thought that seeing Jughead may lessen her baby-related-nerves, but it only served to make them multiply.  Him actually being here meant that the time for the reveal was approaching, and her nerves only worsened with each near-miss.  They ended up in an elevator together, only for a group of teenagers to join just as she was about to confess.  Later, she retrieved a letter from Archie for his bride, Jughead meeting her in the hallway.  She almost told him then, until Reggie peeped his head out from the doorway and said, “Yo, dude, we need you in here.”

            “I guess I’ll see you at the altar,” Jughead joked.

            “Yeah.  I’ll see you there.”

            Betty was concerned that her own personal dramas would detract from the wedding, but she found her mind blessedly blank when the opening strains of Pachelbel’s Canon played and she stepped forward, her hand tucked around her husband’s arm.  A certain sense of calm descended on her as she watched Veronica and Archie’s parents make their way down the aisle, and in what she later considered a moderate lapse in judgment, Betty leaned in toward Jughead and whispered, “Juggie?”

            “Yeah?”

            “I’m pregnant.”

            He looked down at her with wide eyes and then it was their turn to walk, Jughead stumbling beside her as she pulled them forward.  Elation filled her chest on the walk down the aisle.  She felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off her chest.  She hazarded a glance toward Jughead and noticed that he looked remarkably pale.  She felt an overwhelming urge to ask him if he was okay, but then they reached the altar and separated.  She took her spot and looked over at him.  He wasn’t look at her.  In fact, he wasn’t really looking anywhere.  While everyone else was watching the bridal party walk down the aisle, Jughead’s eyes were unfocused.

            Betty’s attention snapped back to the aisle, suddenly worried that this was, in fact, bad news, as she feared, and she’d just ruined Veronica and Archie’s wedding by scaring the senses out of their best man.  The Wedding March began and Betty forced herself to don a placid grin, using every last bit of her self-restraint to not glance at her husband.  Veronica looked beautiful and irrepressibly happy as her father handed her over to Archie.  Betty took Veronica’s bouquet and her gaze slid over to Jughead.  He was looking directly at her, gaze unreadable.  She knew she should look away, focus on her best friends getting married, but she couldn’t.  She searched his eyes, trying to grasp something, anything.  She wrapped her hands almost painfully around the bouquets to keep from fidgeting.

            “We gather here today to celebrate the love of these two, Archibald Andrews and Veronica Lodge.”

            Betty blinked away tears, taking some respite in the fact that anyone watching would assume that the emotions were wedding-related and not anything else.  She forced herself to not look at him, focusing her attention on the happy couple and the promises they made.  Veronica never looked happier and Archie looked as if he couldn’t quite believe his good fortune.  Each slid a ring on the other’s finger, and they kissed, Veronica’s water-proof makeup being put to the test as tears streaked down her face.  The newly married couple went down the aisle, the Wedding March playing triumphantly, and Betty walked forward to join Jughead.  She took his arm and was surprised when he clasped his hand over hers and held her hand tightly.  She looked up at him and noticed for the first time that his eyes were glassy.  When they cleared the room he pulled her to the side and murmured, “Are you sure?”

            She nodded.  “Yes.”

            “Did you take a test?”

            She nodded again.  “Yes.  I’m pregnant, Jug.”  He didn’t say anything for a moment and she said, “I know that we didn’t really plan for this right now.  I completely understand if you’re freaked out.  This is a surprise.  A big surprise.  But, I think it can be good.  We can make it good and-“

            “Betty,” he interrupted, a slow grin spreading on his face.  “We’re going to be parents.  You and me.  We’re going to have a baby.”  He grasped her by the waist and she yelped as he spun her around.  She held on to him tightly, laughing as he placed her gently back on the ground.  Her heart was full and she couldn’t imagine why she was so nervous to tell him in the first place.  Of course he was happy.  This was happy news.  The happiest.  He pressed his forehead against hers and murmured, “I love you so much, Betty.”

            “I love you, too.”

            Jughead braced his hands on her waist and looked down at her still flat stomach.  He looked back up at her and asked, “Are you sure there’s something in there?”

            “It’s only been two weeks.  Well, maybe more.  I’ve only known for two weeks.”

            “You’ve known for two weeks?”

            “I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

            He nodded and then asked, “So, earlier today when you wanted to talk with me-“

            “Yeah, I was going to tell you then,” she said.

            He kissed her forehead.  “I’m sorry.  If I knew I would have made Archie wait.”

            “It’s okay.  It worked out in the end.”

“I am going to dote on you so much during this pregnancy.   Breakfast in bed.  Foot rubs.  Ask and you shall receive.”

            “Foot rubs?  I should get pregnant more often.” 

            “You finally told him!”  Veronica said excitedly, wedging herself and her massive taffeta gown into their conversation.  Archie followed.

            “She knew before me?”  Jughead asked.

            “Unintentionally,” Betty filled in.

            “I made her explain why she wasn’t drinking champagne with me on my wedding day,” Veronica said.  “Archie and I are so happy for you two.”

            “Seriously, man,” Archie said.  “You two are going to make amazing parents.”

            “Now we just need to catch up,” Veronica said reasonably.  “I always wanted us to have kids the same age.  Anyway, I need to go change into my reception dress.  Let the party begin!”  

            Archie looked pale and Jughead laughed.  “I’m sure a year difference is close enough.”

            “Let’s hope.”

            Betty watched Archie walk after his bride and she asked, “Do you ever regret that we didn’t have this?  A big wedding?”

            “Not really.  Do you?”

            She shook her head.  “Not at all.  Besides, we had Judge Wentworth and Harold the Bellboy.  What more do you need?”

            “Don’t forget Judge Wentworth’s bailiff who took our wedding photos on your phone.  We made her tear up.”

            “And Judge Wentworth said she never tears up,” Betty returned with a grin.

            “I think our wedding was perfect,” Jughead said.  “I wouldn’t trade a second of it.”

            Betty wrapped her arms around Jughead’s waist and rested her cheek against his chest.  She closed her eyes and he murmured, “What are you thinking about?”

            She took a deep breath.  “I’m thinking that I never want to forget how I feel right now.”

            “How do you feel?”

            She looked up at him.  “Grateful.  For you.  For this life.  These last five years, you have made me incredibly happy.  I hope you know that.”

            Jughead kissed her.  “I don’t really know how to follow that.  Can I just say, same?”

            She laughed.  “Yes, you can.”

            “I love you, Betty.”

            She gazed up at him, thinking to herself that everything she could ever possibly need was standing in front of her.  “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you'd like to see more!


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